The Ward
by dark mirth
Summary: AU Tamaki is framed and pleads insanity following Kyouya's advice but is sent to the asylum from Hell. How can he survive when his only friend is the mute Haruhi and the very nurses are after his life? Some lemon and lots of scary stuff. TamakixHaruhi.
1. The Trial

DM: Hello hello! I know I haven't finished Be Careful What You Wish For, but inspiration for this fic hit me like a truck, so here it goes. Go to my profile page for the full summary, if you like.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club or any of its characters. This story was inspired by _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_, which belongs to Ken Kesey, and not me.

**The Ward**

**I**

**Imprisonment**

Tamaki took a deep breath and sighed happily. Antoinette tugged at her leash, barking at another dog in the park. They were on their way home after a nice long evening walk.

Before he left, Tamaki's father had begged him to let servants walk Antoinette (about once a month he went on a rant about how Tamaki should behave), but he refused. It was very relaxing and enjoyable, and besides, Antoinette liked him best anyway.

It was a nice evening, really, and if it hadn't gotten dark so quickly, Tamaki would have liked to stay out longer. But dusk had deepened to black in what had seemed minutes, like a curtain dropping over the park and swallowing up Tamaki's elongated shadow. One by one people disappeared from the park, until he and Antoinette were walking alone on the path together.

"We'll show Daddy when he gets back that Antoinette and Tamaki can't be separated," Tamaki said, kneeling down and patting his faithful dog's head. Antoinette licked him and he laughed. They continued their walk, Tamaki adjusting his long steps to her happy trot.

A breeze blew in from in front of him, caressing his cheeks and already cold hands. Antoinette continued indefatigably to walk and even seemed to increase her pace. Tamaki reluctantly came in step once more.

Tamaki's father was overseas on business and had left the day before. Unfortunately, Tamaki, the next in line to take the company, could not be with him. He was left to take care of the main Suou mansion with his grandmother.

He shivered, remembering her cold stare when they encountered each other in the entryway. After preventing him from seeing his mother, forcing him to live in Suou mansion number two his entire high school and college life, and refusing to eat with him at meals, she still had the gall to say, "You should get a job doing that," when she saw him hook up Antoinette to her leash.

Tamaki had never asked to be the son of a mistress. It was not his fault that his father loved his mother.

That familiar mixture of anger and self-righteousness welled up from his stomach. His grip on Antoinette's leash tightened and he set his teeth unconsciously. Then the anger died down into self-disgust. Despite her cruelty towards him and his mother, Tamaki never ceased to vie for her attention, to seek some kind of approval from the old matriarch. As many times as he was rejected, he could never once say to himself, 'I don't need her.'

During this brief rush of emotion, Tamaki had unconsciously quickened his pace and drawn abreast of Antoinette. Sensing an air of competition, the dog in turn sped up and gained a lead once more. When he realized that they had come to the end of their tour of the park, he was already being dragged down the causeway of the Suou estate.

The main mansion loomed up ahead of them. Tamaki was still slightly intimidated by it, although he had been living there for a year already. He still had a bad feeling every time he entered it, as if he was going to his doom.

He paused at the door. It was odd for no one to open it (usually a maid spotted him from a window and opened the door to welcome him) and even more odd for the chandelier in the entry hall to be off after nine.

"Hello? I'm home!" Tamaki called, opening the large (and heavy) door with both hands. Antoinette sat on the side and watched as he struggled. He walked around and peered inside.

The hall was pitch black. He felt along the wall searching for a light switch. He found one after walking about twenty feet, and hit it. Luckily, it was the large chandelier.

The scene that met his eyes would forever be etched into his memory.

The tiled floor was covered in blood, leading to a fallen body in a kimono. It was his grandmother, her lifeless eyes staring straight ahead. Blood pooled from a gaping wound in her neck. Antoinette barked angrily.

At first he didn't quite comprehend it, and made the mistake of looking into those glassy eyes, already beginning to milk over. He then became vaguely aware of a weakness in the knees, and the feeling that ice had been poured down his back.

Each breath hitched, as though he were trying to will her to breath with him. But he was too late, she was being blurred out by dark spots. Tamaki had never been good with blood, yet he found his traitorous knees slowly sinking him down into the thick, glassy pool. There were more spots now, crowding over her body like flies, and eventually blotting out the entire scene.

The next thing he knew he was in the back of a car with a dull pain in his wrists. He blinked stupidly as the two people in front came into focus. They were police officers, he could see now. He looked down at his hands and realized that the ache was from handcuffs.

"Excuse me," he asked "Where are we going?" The two officers looked at each other and smirked.

"We're going to the police station, son," the driver said. They laughed.

Nobody said anything for the rest of the ride.

They pulled up to a small, dingy looking building next door to a bar. Tamaki was barely out of the car when a man came flying out the window of said bar, sending glass shards and specks of blood flying everywhere. A man in uniform came to the window.

"Oh hey, fellas!" he called to the two officers. Tamaki had crouched behind the car when the man had flown out, and decided that it was best to remain there while this person was in sight.

"Your shift starts in an hour," one of the two replied. The beaten man gave a horrible cough, and Tamaki was sure he heard liquid spew out.

"Yea, just let me pack away a couple more beers, an' I'll be right over," the off-duty cop said, his voice diminishing with each word, indicating that he was walking back into the bar. Tamaki slowly came out from behind the car.

The officers grabbed him and shoved him towards the building. Looking over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of the fallen man, his clothes filthy and stained with blood, still struggling to get up.

"Hey!" one officer yelled, pushing him again. "You wanna end up like that?" he threatened, leering. Tamaki shook his head and obediently walked to the building.

He was barely in the door, when he was thrown into a small cell to the left. It slammed behind him with a ringing finality.

Tamaki struggled to find a clean patch on which to sit down, as the cell was absolutely rancid.

"You get one phone call," the cop who had driven him said. He spoke with the other officer under his breath.

"Ootori Kyouya. I want to call Ootori Kyouya," Tamaki croaked, huddled on the floor and trying to keep his Armani loafers away from a suspicious-looking yellow spot on the other side of the cell.

All the family lawyers were either subordinates of his grandmother or away with his father. The one person he knew who could get him out of this strange mess was his best friend and future head of the Ootori Medical Group.

Ten minutes later, the sound of many tires screeching to a halt could be heard outside. The door opened and through it came Kyouya, barely hiding his look of disdain at his surroundings. Through the still open door Tamaki could see a group of men hoist the beaten man into an ambulance.

"Kyouya!" Tamaki cried happily. Kyouya gave him a small wave and a look that said, 'Quiet, you!'

When he faced the officers, Kyouya put on a false smile and began speaking with them in hushed tones. The two men seemed to weaken in the face of such incomparable class. Tamaki stood up, and leaned against the cell, straining to listen, and only heard the officers agreeing with everything that Kyouya said (Kyouya's sentences were intelligible from Tamaki's location). At last the discussion seemed to reach a conclusion.

"So Tamaki," Kyouya said curtly, waving the officers away and entering the cell "It seems you have really gotten yourself into trouble this time."

Tamaki attempted a smile at his friend's casual tone. Kyouya frowned and shook his head.

"You don't realize the situation at all, do you?" he asked, pushing up his glasses. Tamaki shook his head, but all traces of a smile left him.

"Nobody told me anything. I just woke up in a car, and now, I'm here," he replied, pausing between his short, abrupt phrases. He became nauseous as images of his grandmother started to seep into his brain. He threw up in the cell's trashcan.

Kyouya sighed, and then ran a hand through his sleek black hair. Tamaki could have sworn he heard Kyouya say, "Ugh, and the receptacle wasn't even lined." Only Kyouya would care about something like that.

"Your fingerprints and hair were found everywhere, even on her face," he said suddenly, as Tamaki wiped his mouth on his sleeve (he didn't care anymore about his clothes; really), "You were the last person to be seen with her before going out for a walk. A maid, wondering where your grandmother had been, as she had failed to order the lighting of the hallway, found you asleep in her blood with Antoinette still on her leash," he paused "Now do you understand?"

Tamaki slumped down onto the blotched and dirty bench and didn't answer. Kyouya took this for a 'yes' and continued talking.

"I have discussed the matter with my lawyer and we've decided that—"

"—I didn't do it! I was walking Antoinette! People saw me—" Tamaki burst out.

"—But she died at the time you claim to have left, according to the autopsy, making it appear to any onlooker that you killed her and went out to hide the weapon—"

"—I didn't do it." Tamaki interrupted again, "I didn't."

Kyouya patted him on the head as Tamaki began to cry. It was painful, the way the dry sobs choked out of his throat, and the tears were late in coming. His body shook as he fought down a sort of vindictive triumph that was originating from who-knows-where. It was true, to a certain extent, that she had got what she deserved. This idea made him feel even dirtier, sullied by his own emotions, and it was a few minutes before Kyouya could speak again:

"I know you didn't. Only people with brains commit murders."

Tamaki gave a small laugh. "Don't make me throw my puke at you," he joked half-heartedly, gesturing to the can. Kyouya put his hands up in surrender and then continued in his previous business-like tone:

"Now then, I have a plan—"

"—wait, but since I'm innocent, I'm sure they'll understand," Tamaki persisted, clinging to a shred of the optimism that had kept him going all his life. Kyouya smiled sadly, on the verge of tears himself.

"I'm sorry, Tamaki. But that naïveté is what made them target you. They have framed you perfectly," he said, shaking his head, "Now listen up, ok?"

QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ

The day of the trial arrived.

Tamaki shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked up towards the window. It was very small and its light was feeble. His father had yet to come back. In fact, Tamaki had no idea where he was. No one from the Suou estate had even contacted him in the month between his arrest and his trial, which he couldn't bring himself to worry about. A kind of numbness had now taken hold over him. He stopped throwing up so much, anyway.

He had spent his time with Kyouya and the Ootori legal team, preparing for a case that Kyouya assured him was 'foolproof.' Tamaki, despite his horrible experience on that night one month ago, still privately maintained a level of indignation: he was innocent, after all.

He longed to turn around and see Kyouya in the audience, but held still as the opening procedures began. The judge was an old lady with a wrinkled, shrunken face. Tamaki stood up with everyone else as she walked in, and then sat down, never taking his eyes off her as she slowly eased into the seat. She scratched her nose and coughed lightly. She was very thin and seemed to propel herself backwards merely by clearing her throat.

This woman was going to decide his fate. She could send him to be executed if she wanted to, with a wave of that gavel, which seemed altogether too heavy for her to lift.

"Suou Tamaki," she began, "You have been convicted of the murder of Suou Makoto. How do you plead?"

Kyouya's lawyer stood up hastily instead of Tamaki, who had jumped a little in surprise. The room went dead silent. Tamaki's heart began racing, and he began bouncing his leg uncontrollably, which was strange as he had never been very fidgety before.

"We plead insanity, your honor," he said. The judge raised an eyebrow and nodded. The prosecution team began staring at Tamaki intensely. He tried to swallow, but all his saliva seemed to have gone missing.

"I will require a doctor to testify in proof of his insanity. I will also permit the prosecution to cross-examine both the doctor and Suou himself," she said curtly, looking around the courtroom. She looked a little bored by the course the case was about to take. Nobody said anything, but Tamaki felt all eyes burning hotly on him. He tried to suppress a shiver and failed.

As Kyouya had predicted, the defense was allowed to speak first, in order to call upon their doctor.

"I call to the stand Dr. Ootori Kyouya," the lawyer said. From somewhere behind Tamaki, Kyouya walked up calmly to the witness' stand. Tamaki felt the hairs on his neck stand up as he passed. He was sworn in quickly and sat down.

"Doctor," the lawyer began, walking up to the stand, "How long have you known Suou Tamaki?"

This was according to what was rehearsed. Kyouya's credibility had to be established.

"About eight years now," Kyouya replied, "And I have observed increased paranoia and neurotic behavior over the years."

That last statement was complete bull, of course. Tamaki took his cue and began to scratch his arm like crazy. Whispers rose in the audience as he began to draw blood. He jumped in his seat, though even he couldn't judge whether it was from rehearsed or actual surprise. His leg continued to bounce and he wondered when he had become so scatterbrained. He found his eyes jumping from the prosecution (they were still staring him down) to the judge (she looked disinterested and had clearly seen something similar before) finally back to the lawyer, who was turning back to Kyouya.

"Would you care to elaborate?" the lawyer asked, although it was clear to everyone present the kind of behavior he was referring to. Kyouya turned his smile into a grimace, as though recalling something painful. Tamaki desperately wanted to say something—would he even be called to the stand?

"Yes. It was when we were nineteen and almost finished with our first year at university that I first started to notice that something was strange. I was, of course, in the medical section while he did business. He developed a habit of scratching himself constantly, so much so that he drew blood when especially agitated," he gestured to Tamaki's bleeding forearm (Tamaki had forgotten about it in the excitement), "He stopped sitting with his back exposed, and looked around him often while we were walking," he replied. He looked as though he were about to continue, when the lawyer held up a hand.

"Did he give any reason for this behavior?" he pursued.

"Well," Kyouya said, looking up towards the ceiling as if the answer were somewhere up there, "he never spoke to me directly about it except for once when we were twenty-one. He was drunk, and he said to me, 'Kyouya, I may die very soon. If I do, I want you to take care of Antoinette for me.' Naturally, I was shocked by this and asked him what he meant, but he only replied, 'They're after my life.'" Tamaki buried his hands in his hair. This was so frustrating, and he really wanted to get up and walk around, and the fact that he was in a courtroom seemed to matter less every second as the idea that he might be executed began to take hold.

The crowd in the room buzzed loudly. The prosecution team whispered amongst themselves. Tamaki sank down in his seat, staring up at the judge as she banged her gavel to restore order.

"The defense, your honor, would now like to present Exhibit A to the court," the lawyer now said over the still whispering prosecution (the judge gave them a stern look), gesturing to a notebook standing open on a table to the side. The entire court room snapped to attention, including Tamaki.

It was the notebook that was Kyouya's masterpiece. He had really thought of everything. Tamaki said a silent prayer of thanks for having the youngest Ootori as his best friend but couldn't shake the look of terror from his face while he did so. It still counted though, he figured.

It was a false journal that he and Tamaki had prepared in the cell. It was really nonsense stream-of-consciousness paranoid babble. The lawyer read an excerpt:

"'She is going to kill me like she killed Momma she stares at me every day with cold cold eyes she's evil she's evil,' from June 28, 2007. I will now read from the night before the mur—" he was cut off by Tamaki beginning to sob loudly. The judge banged the gavel repeatedly and the bailiff came and held him down as he struggled.

"In short," the lawyer said, after Tamaki had calmed down into silent tears (he wondered if they were fake), "Although we have no idea how, Tamaki killed his grandmother and managed to hide the weapon, in reaction to this perceived threat."

Tamaki continued to cry and began sobbing again. He had now convinced himself that he was going to be executed independently of the fact that the entire court, including the prosecution looked convinced that he was insane.

One member of the prosecution, a woman with sharp brown eyes and long black hair, still remained skeptical. The defense had rested its case (the lawyer even looked uncomfortable sitting next to Tamaki after that outburst), and now it was the prosecution's turn to examine witnesses. The woman, despite suggestions from her team that they waive their right to do so, stood up and called Tamaki to the stand.

Everything had gone smoothly up until this point, but Kyouya had counted on the prosecution waiving their right to cross-examine. Tamaki was sworn in, but as the woman approached he became more and more certain that he was going to be executed. The plan was going to fail, and he was going to die because someone was smarter than both him and Kyouya put together.

"Mr. Suou," she said calmly, undeterred by his clearly agitated appearance, "How do you feel right now?"

A simple question. It took Tamaki five minutes of looking around wildly before he could answer.

"I'm going to be killed, how do you _think_ I feel?" he finally asked, seething. He was referring to a pending execution for murder. The court, the prosecutor, and the judge believed he was referring to some strange paranoia-induced vision. Kyouya felt a twinge of concern: he had never known Tamaki to be this good of an improviser.

Tamaki began crying again. The prosecutor looked embarrassed and quietly resigned from further questioning.

The closing statements went by in a blur for Tamaki, who was finally calming down from his previous fear. He was going to be ok. Kyouya's plan was working. The judge sighed.

"Alright, Suou Tamaki. You have been classified in a court of law as criminally insane. My sentence is for you to undergo treatment at Thorny Towers Home for the Disturbed, in Thorny Towers, New Mexico. Case dismissed," she said quickly. She clearly had bingo at five or something.

Tamaki sighed, a headache building up in the middle of his forehead from his earlier crying (he was getting those a lot lately). He was going far away.

Kyouya froze. This was not part of the plan. New Mexico? That was in America, a seventeen hour flight away! He had originally intended for Tamaki to be in an Ootori run hospital, but bribing the legal system was something forbidden by his father. As the rest of the court filed out, Kyouya stopped the judge.

"How long will he be treated there?" he asked, trying to seem as casual as possible. The judge smirked at him.

"As long as it takes," she said. She left quickly before he could ask her anything else.

Tamaki let the bailiff drag him towards the door, too tired from his previous antics to protest the ridiculousness of sending him to the middle of nowhere when Japan had plenty of fine institutions for him. Kyouya ran to him.

"Tamaki!" he yelled, and then turned to the bailiff, "Excuse me sir, please let me speak with him." The burly man shrugged and released him. Kyouya grabbed his arm with surprising strength and snapped him awake.

"What now, Kyouya?" he asked helplessly, "They didn't assign me to you like you planned." His voice was feeble.

"It's ok, it's ok," Kyouya reassured him, "Just pretend like you don't know English when you go there, and remember to scratch yourself often. I will find the real murderer here in Japan."

Easier said than done, but Tamaki didn't bother to argue with him. The bailiff lost patience and dragged him away. He waved goodbye sadly, a sinking feeling in his abdomen.

This was the start of the rest of Tamaki's life.

DM: So it begins. Yes, the name of the asylum comes from the game Psychonauts, which is amazing, I recommend it to all lovers of platformers. Please review and let me know how I'm doing.


	2. Masochistic Martha

DM: So I'm back

DM: So I'm back! Thank you to **Mechanism Unknown, other, Amarioko**__and **i l0ve c0ffee **for your reviews, they were very encouraging.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club. Aside from Haruhi, Tamaki and Kyouya, all the characters in this chapter are original and belong to me. A note: the staff of this mental hospital as well as the patients were created by me for the purpose of this story and by no means portray my view of actual staff or patients, so please don't be offended by them as characters.

**The Ward**

**II**

**Martha the Masochist**

"I now present into your charge, Tamaki Suou, aged 23 years. Hair color is blonde, eye color is blue. Height 180 centimeters, weight 64 kilograms," the escort from the regional hospital in Japan rattled off. A round lady whose face Tamaki could not see typed everything into a computer behind a desk. The room was silent except for the light tapping sound she made.

While he thought it odd that he had been introduced with his first name first, he decided not to speak and instead looked at the floor. It was very shiny, very cheap linoleum. At last the lady looked up.

She had a round face and wore an impossibly crisp nurse's uniform. Her eyes pierced him, and a shiver went down his spine. He looked at the floor but then back again. She pursed her lips, making her face look even rounder.

"Hello," she said in a patronizing tone, "I'm Nurse Gertrude."

An uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that this was a bad lady. Tamaki wanted to leave more than anything else, but he had steeled himself for this day ever since that blasted judge had condemned him here. He looked at the escort with a feigned look of confusion.

"He can't speak English, ma'am," the man explained. She smiled sweetly, but something about it struck Tamaki as vicious (something in the sharpness of her teeth, perhaps). Could she tell he was only pretending? He wondered. Her eyes were full of distrust.

The two exchanged some words that Tamaki didn't hear while two burly men in white uniforms came into the registration office.

"Ah, Butch, Jim, this is our newest patient, Tamaki," Gertrude said, gesturing between them, "These are our orderlies here at Thorny Towers," she explained to the escort. Butch and Jim tipped of their little hats to reveal identical bald heads and barely indistinguishable faces. However, when they smiled, Tamaki could see that Jim had his four frontal teeth (the two top and the two bottom) knocked clean out. Butch boasted a full set of yellow pearls. Tamaki could hazard a guess as to their relationship.

Gertrude continued to speak with the escort (though Tamaki could now see that it was quite obviously flirting) as Butch and Jim each grabbed one of his arms. He was about half their individual width, and therefore was in no position to struggle.

"So pretty," Jim said as they dragged him down a hallway, "Like a girl." Tamaki swallowed and turned away from Jim's leering face. Butch snickered.

"We'll see what he's like after a month," he said, ruffling Tamaki's hair with his dirty hands. Tamaki cringed. The two ogres laughed. Meanwhile the sound of the main door shutting told him that his escort had left. He was really stuck here.

"Butch! Jim!" Gertrude called out in a surprisingly sharp voice. The two snapped to attention, shaking Tamaki like a rag doll in the process. The tapping of her sensible heels echoed down the hall as she approached them from behind. Tamaki felt an ice cold shiver run down his spine.

"Now then, he has an appointment with Dr. Wilbur, so please take him to that room now," was all she said, but Tamaki couldn't stop the sinking feeling in his stomach. The orderlies tipped their hats and continued to drag him off. He turned around (had had been too afraid to when she was speaking) and could see her smiling to herself, a cruel, wicked smile.

"Here we are, girly," Butch said as they stopped at a door. Jim laughed and echoed, "Yea, girly." Tamaki tried to look like he didn't understand and only stared blankly at the door. Butch opened it and thrust him inside, closing the door so fast it hit Tamaki in the back.

Cursing them under his breath, Tamaki looked around the room. It was a surprisingly normal-looking psychiatrist's office. A balding, squat little man sat at a desk on the far side of the room, typing furiously into a computer. He hadn't noticed Tamaki and continued to work, muttering to himself as he did so.

"Uhm," Tamaki began tentatively, almost forgetting to only speak Japanese. The man jumped out of his chair and landed on the ground with a thud.

"Damn it, Gertrude! I told you not to interrupt me!" he shouted, rubbing his hip. It was only when he stood up that he realized that it was not Gertrude, but some strange young man. He sighed, exasperated.

"Have a seat," he said. Tamaki pretended not to understand. Wilbur glared at him.

"Sit down," he repeated, pointing to Tamaki and then to the lumpy orange couch against the wall. Tamaki sat down.

"So, since you can't speak English and you've got slanty eyes, I'm going to assume you're a chink of some sort, is that right?" Wilbur said, pulling a clipboard out of a drawer and retaking his former seat.

Tamaki could not hide his shock and disgust at the word "chink." Wilbur smiled and wrote something down on the clipboard.

"You're that crazy that killed his grandmother, huh? You don't look like you have it in you, if you ask me…Then again, neither did Francis…" he trailed off, speaking more to himself now and continuing to scribble things down.

"You are a pig," Tamaki said in Japanese, "You're not a doctor at all."

Wilbur looked up and set his pencil down.

"Did I give you permission to speak?" he asked. Tamaki continued to stare at him defiantly. Wilbur leaned over until he and Tamaki were almost nose to nose.

"You don't realize it yet, but you soon will," he said maliciously. He smacked Tamaki across the face. Tamaki looked up in horror, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. He got up and started backing out of the room, wanting to get as far away from this man as possible, but his knees had begun shaking again. Wilbur grinned, revealing large, square, yellow teeth.

Tamaki finally found the doorknob (he had been feeling the wall behind him for some time now) and was turning it when Wilbur said one last thing.

"You and Francis should get along well. You're almost exactly the same case."

Tamaki fled from the room and into the hallway, where Butch and Jim were waiting for him. He was captured once more. However, to Tamaki it was a strange relief to be with the two thugs, as they were straightforward and easily read. That doctor, though, hid something gruesome behind his eyes. Tamaki shivered. Butch and Jim laughed.

"That Doc's a right strange one, huh?" Butch said, pulling Tamaki round a corner in the hallway. He was beginning to hear sounds from a room at the end of the hall.

"Right strange, that Doc is," Jim echoed in his slow and stupid way. Tamaki's heart began pounding as they came up to large double doors. Butch released him and pressed the button to open them. Jim threw him inside and then stepped in afterwards.

Tamaki hit the floor with his knees, wincing at the pain. Linoleum was much harder than it looked.

"Get along good with everyone now, ya here?" Butch said, prodding him with his toe.

"Yup, ya hear? Get along good with everybody," Jim echoed. Tamaki clenched his fist in anger and annoyance. Standing up weakly, his knees aching terribly, Tamaki looked around. A small group of people sat at a long rectangular table on the other side of the room.

The first was an extremely attractive woman with a long face and long hair. She wore the beige clothes of a patient with the top few buttons undone. She was looking straight at Butch. To her left sat a young Asian woman with large eyes. She was very short and stared at the wall blankly. Next was a twitchy and thin young man with large glasses and already thinning hair. Last and furthest to Tamaki's right, was an extremely fat man.

Perhaps it was Tamaki's imagination, but the fat man was eyeing him with a hungry look in his eyes, his doughy features stretched into an eerie smile. Tamaki felt bile rise up from his stomach and clapped a hand over his mouth, breaking eye contact with the large blob.

"Go on, sit at the table," Butch said, giving him a light push,

"Yea, go on," Jim repeated, pushing him a little harder.

The woman on the far left stood up.

"You can have my seat," she said, smiling seductively. Tamaki cocked his head to the side, pretending not to understand her. Jim got impatient and pushed him into the chair, which he nearly knocked over in the process.

"Martha, you sho' are gracious," Butch said, "Too bad he can't say 'Thank you' in English, eh?"

"Yea, too bad…" Jim said. The three engaged in a conversation in low voices. Tamaki turned to the Asian woman.

"Hello, do you speak Japanese?" he asked. The girl slowly turned her head towards him and fixed him with her blank look. Tamaki felt his heart sink.

The twitchy man, noticing Tamaki's disheartened state, leaned across the woman and extended a hand, essentially pretending she was furniture.

"Don't mind Haruhi, she doesn't talk anymore. Don't know why. I'm Francis," he said in English, expecting Tamaki to shake his hand. Tamaki reached out tentatively and took it. They would have spoken more, but they heard a thud from the other side of the table.

Martha had been pushed to the ground and was now clawing at Butch's leg, giving out a low moan.

"You sure are crazy, aren't you?" Butch asked, slapping her face. She fell back but came up moaning louder,

"Yup, you're crazy," Jim said, kicking her in the stomach. Tamaki's eyes widened in horror. Martha appeared to be enjoying the beating.

"More!" she cried out. Butch punched her in the jaw and she fell to the floor, writhing in pleasure. Jim fell to beating her while Butch began undoing his pants. Tamaki looked across the table. No one seemed at all concerned with what was happening in front of them, not even Francis. He met eyes with the fat guy again and felt the same shiver of revulsion. Tamaki turned back to the scene.

As Jim slapped her face repeatedly, Butch began undressing her. She continued to moan. Tamaki shut his eyes.

"Ahem," he heard. It was a small, relatively inoffensive sound, but it brought all the sounds of movement and moaning to a halt. He opened one eye, barely daring to breath.

Nurse Gertrude, with another, younger nurse in tow as well as Dr. Wilbur stood tapping her foot in the doorway. Butch sheepishly began putting his clothes back on while Jim stepped away. The pleasured look was gone from Martha's face, and replaced by one of abject terror.

"Well, it's a good thing it's your day today, isn't it, Martha dear. Your compulsions are getting out of control," Gertrude said quietly. Martha sat up and scooted until her back was against the wall. Her face was covered in bruises and her clothes almost completely off.

"No!" she cried, "No! Don't make me today! No!" Gertrude looked as though she was about to say something, but Dr. Wilbur stood in front of her and put a hand up.

"Now Martha, you want to be corrected, don't you?" he asked in a patronizing tone, bending down and beckoning to her as if she was a small animal. She pressed herself as hard as she could against the wall in an effort to get away. Tamaki felt his legs stand up on their own.

"Wait!" he cried out in Japanese, "What the hell is going on?" Gertrude snapped her fingers and Butch and Jim were on him in a second. He struggled to get free, his heart beating at a frenzied pace, but they were too strong. The other nurse came up to him. Francis looked away and Haruhi remained blank. The fat man looked even hungrier than before, his eyes traveling up and down Tamaki's struggling form.

"Hello," she said, smiling. Her blonde hair was tucked under a nurses cap and her face seemed a mask of makeup. "I'm Betty. Nice to meet you, Tamaki."

He struggled to back away when she grabbed his face with one hand. Her nails were very long and dug into his cheeks.

"Don't bother nurse Gertrude and Dr. Wilbur while they're working, ok?" she cooed. Tamaki felt tears leak out of his eyes as she squeezed harder. She released him, and he noticed that her nails were filed into sharp points. Gertrude snapped again and Tamaki was dropped to the floor, knocking his chair over. The two thugs went over and picked up Martha, who appeared to have fainted. The group left the room.

QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Kyouya steeled himself as he waited for someone to answer the door. The Suou Mansion was as impressive as ever, but now was not the time to be awed. He had information to collect. He had to clear Tamaki's name.

At last a voice came on over in the intercom by the huge doors.

"Please state your name and business," it said curtly. Kyouya smiled to himself. He had planted someone on the inside a week ago just for this purpose.

"Dr. Ootori Kyouya. I'm here on a house call for a diabetic patient who works as a maid here, Miss Wakamura Akane."

If Akane had carried out her part correctly, this visit would go without a hitch. Sure enough, the doors swung open and he was greeted by the girl herself.

Wakamura Akane was an eighteen year old diabetic who had worked part time as a maid in the Ootori household up until the murder of Tamaki's grandmother. In order to investigate the crime scene to clear his friend's name and rescue him from the foreign asylum, Kyouya needed someone on the inside whom he could visit regularly without arousing suspicion, and who was trustworthy and smart. Akane fit perfectly.

The two walked inside and up the stairs to her room, Kyouya looking around all the while and noting that without the Onibaba (his nickname for her meaning Demon-grandma) around the staff looked much more relaxed.

Once inside the room, Kyouya posed the question that had been bothering him since Tamaki's trial: "Where is Tamaki's father?" Akane shook her head, her black hair whipping around her.

"We haven't heard anything from him, and he took his personal maid staff with him on his trip. I'm afraid to press the issue too much, as that would look suspicious," she said, allowing him to check her insulin. If anyone were to come in, they had to look like doctor and patient.

"Anything important you can tell me?" he asked calmly. He had expected as much. Suou had known something bad was going to happen and so he fled. But how did he know?

"I found this while cleaning her room," Akane replied, pulling a small plastic bag of white powder from her pocket. Kyouya took it and examined it.

"It looks like cocaine," he said. Akane nodded.

"Additionally, it seems that a member of the cooking staff was fired two weeks prior to the murder. The reason was not given," she added. Kyouya rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"That could be important," he said, "please try to gather more information on that person so that we can track them down." She nodded obediently.

The doctor and patient time over, they left her room. Before they started walking downstairs, Kyouya stopped and put a hand on her arm. Akane felt her heart skip a beat.

"One more thing," he whispered, "Let me see her room."

Akane shook her head.

"No one is allowed to enter it unless they're cleaning it. If we were seen, it would be all over for us," she replied.

Kyouya let out a low growl of frustration. He had to find a way to examine it thoroughly. Akane showed him out and waved goodbye, her heart sinking with each of his steps.

"I'll be back next week," he called without turning around. His investigation had officially begun.

DM: Ok, so that's all for now. I hope you liked it. Please review and let me know what you think! Next Chapter: Freaky Francis.


	3. Freaky Francis

DM: I'm back

DM: I'm back! Thanks so much to:

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**Matthew**

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**Krimzon Lily**

**XxStarxGazerxX**

For your reviews. You guys rock!

Disclaimer: The same as in the last chapter.

**The Ward**

**III**

**Freaky Francis**

"Hey, Dr. Ootori," Akane said, tugging his arm. The sleeve of her black maid's uniform slipped off, revealing a pale and smooth shoulder.

He seemed not to hear her, being thoroughly engrossed in the pile of documents in front of him. Nor did he seem to notice that her skirt was pushed up, revealing a pair of black, lacy garters.

They were in Akane's room at the Suoh mansion, and he was examining the employment records of the cooking staff, desperate to find out what had happened to the person who was fired. The results from the drug lab would be ready in an hour and then he would finally get to know what exactly the white powder Akane had given him was.

"Dr. Ootori," she repeated, her voice soft and seductive. He shrugged her hand off and she crossed her arms, irritated at being ignored. She undid her apron and cast it aside.

According to the documents, a part-timer was fired for allowing the main chef to use expired dairy products…It seemed rather harmless, but what if there was something more? Kyouya pondered how best to approach and question the kitchen staff so as not to arouse suspicion. Akane got on all fours and breathed hotly into his ear. Steeling himself, he turned away from her, still wondering about the fired part-timer.

_Was he just some idiot? _he asked himself, _Or did he not know how to do his job because his real job is for someone else?_ It was a stretch, but until the results got back, it was all he had to go on—

"Dr. Ootori!" Akane practically yelled. He finally snapped to attention and turned back to her, looking straight down her dress.

"What is it, Miss Wakamura?" he asked, mildly irritated by her tone of voice and doing his best to avert his eyes from her black-lace-encased breasts.

"Wouldn't it be easier to hire a private investigator?" she asked, now calm again, tidying up the papers he had sorted through and sidling up close to him. Kyouya shook his head and scooted a little ways away from her.

"The family's investigation service is controlled by my father. He would want to know why I was sending our people to the Suoh household and I can't be bothered to explain everything—" his phone rang, his ringtone Ravel's Tzigane.

Akane shrugged as he answered it, finding his explanation lacking. She reached back and began undoing the buttons on the back of her black dress. Perhaps he was hiding something from her? She smirked at the thought and shook her shoulders to slip off more of her dress.

Kyouya was silent as the head of Ootori labs explained to him the contents of the small bag Akane had found in the Onibaba's room. When at last he hung up, Akane was staring at him questioningly.

"Well? What was in it?" she asked as he got up and dusted off his pants. He shrugged and she pouted, her attempt at seduction thwarted.

"Come now, I have a few questions for the kitchen staff," was all he said, motioning for her to follow him out of the room and pretending that she _wasn't_ half undressed. She retained him, grasping his sleeve.

"What, why? Didn't the results tell you anything?" she asked, looking a little angry.

Kyouya felt a wave of suspicion flow through him. She was behaving very strangely, and was coming on a little too strong to just be playing around.

_If she wants to play that way, I'll play_, he thought as a sneer formed on his face.

"After that, you and I are going to Colombia," he said cheerfully. He noted her smirk at the news with satisfaction.

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"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH"

Tamaki cringed as another wail pierced his ears.

Since his arrival, Tamaki had been doing his best to imitate Francis' behavior so as to avoid suspicion, but this was just too much.

He had been fine with looking over his shoulder often, sitting with his back against the wall, smelling each bite before placing it in his mouth, all those little things that made Francis appear crazy. His problem was the screaming. Francis often screamed all night.

Tamaki pulled his pillow over his ears in an attempt to block him out, but it was no use. The frail man had more lung power than expected.

"No! No, don't eat me! Please don't eat me!" he yelled. He had been going on about this sort of thing for a few hours now and Tamaki had just about had enough.

_Nobody's going to eat you, Francis,_ he thought. In the brief silence he felt the sinking feeling of falling asleep. The mattress was terribly uncomfortable, but he had gotten used to it after a week of tossing and turning.

"GYAAAAH! NO, GO AWAY!" Francis called out again. Tamaki felt a pounding in his temples as he was jerked back into a half-asleep, half-awake stupor.

Tamaki was just happy that the asylum kept everyone in separate rooms. He was between Haruhi and Martha, he recalled dimly, unable to control the flow of his thoughts. On Martha's other side was Francis and on Francis' other side was the extremely fat man. Tamaki had never heard his name, and neither the patients nor staff paid him more attention than necessary.

In his delirious state, Tamaki began inventing outlandish names for him that he remembered reading in English textbooks back in Japan…Aeschylus, Thucydides, Euripides…Maybe it was a history textbook he was thinking of—

Francis shrieked again, causing Tamaki to shudder as he imagined him tossing and turning, running away from an invisible enemy that only he could see.

Tamaki thought longingly of the first six nights, which hadn't been bad, because that week was designated for Martha's "treatment," which usually left her too exhausted to even eat (Tamaki didn't want to know why). But as Francis' scheduled treatment approached, he began having strange nightmares about being eaten. Tamaki turned on his side and huddled into the fetal position. Would his treatment make him like this, too?

He sighed. It had grown silent now—perhaps Francis had tired himself out. Suddenly he was at it again.

"Frank! No Frank, don't go in there!" he screamed, his voice weaker and softer than before. Martha, roused from her post-treatment stupor, pounded the wall.

"Shut the fuck up, Francis! Frank's dead, you idiot!" she yelled at him. Francis began sobbing loudly. Tamaki groaned and tried to bury himself in his pillow again.

At some point, his exhaustion took over and he mercifully drifted off to sleep.

All too soon, he woke up on the floor with something soft, wet and smelly on his face. He cautiously opened his eyes to find a slimy-looking dragon pressing its tail to his face with a sinister grin. He blinked and it was Jim, holding a mop and licking his lips.

"Ah. He's awake, Butch," Jim said, cackling happily and rubbing the dirty mop into Tamaki's eyes. Butch came in laughing as well, and the duo picked him up off the floor.

Tamaki felt a dull ache in his back from where he'd hit the ground, and struggled to keep up with them as they led him to the showers for the worst part of his day. He often felt dirtier _after_ showering than before, since a "shower" consisted of his standing in cold rusty water as it barely trickled out of the spout while Butch and Jim rubbed him down with a dirty mop, mocking his skinny build while they were at it. Tamaki always bit his lip, trying not to imagine what else the mop might've cleaned and dreaming of his large porcelain bathtub at home.

"That crazy bitch Martha bit me yesterday," Butch complained as he made Tamaki's hair even filthier than before by rubbing some kind of grease in it. Jim nodded and prodded Tamaki in the back, right on his newly forming bruise, making Tamaki jump away on reflex.

"What the fuck you doing?" Jim yelled angrily. He held the mop like a bat and smacked Tamaki again in the same place, causing him to fall to the floor, coughing. Jim was about to hit him again, but Butch put a hand on his partner's shoulder, the other hand stroking his stubbly chin.

"Say, Jim," he began.

"Yeah, Butch?" he asked. Tamaki cringed as Butch eyed him up and down, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Don't he look like a girl from this angle?" he asked, continuing to stroke his chin. Tamaki held in a gasp of horror and turned his face away, unable to make eye contact, pretending not to understand what they were saying. He tried to go back to his fantasy of home, but Butch's perverted eyes kept coming to the forefront of his brain.

"Yeah, you're right," Jim replied. Tamaki jumped as he heard a splash. The pathetic shower still ran cold water over his now shaking body. He felt a hand on his shoulder and started again, now feeling Butch's hot and putrid breath on the back of his neck.

"I don't mind this," Butch said to himself. Tamaki gave a dry retch just as Francis saved him by going into a shrieking panic.

"The food! The food! IT'S IN THE FOOD!" he was screaming from the dining area, his voice echoing through the hallways. Butch let go and ran off with Jim to calm him down.

Tamaki sighed with relief, but the feeling was short-lived as he realized that tomorrow would probably be the same. He got up and dried himself off with a relatively clean-looking towel. He then put on the gray pants and shirt that were his "uniform." They looked just like his pajamas, except the pajamas were made of a heavier material.

He slowly walked towards the dining area, where he could hear Francis struggling against the two orderlies (to whom he referred in his mind as _dis_orderlies). He looked outside the lone window in the hallway, a square of light about twenty centimeters in length and width.

It was getting colder. In the world outside, time was passing. Life was continuing. _In Japan, they'll be bringing out their kotatsu's soon_, he thought wistfully.

Contact with the outside was forbidden—even phone calls. Tamaki often wondered what Kyouya was up to. He had promised to come and rescue him, but...

Steeling himself, Tamaki entered the cafeteria.

Things had now calmed down. Butch and Jim had shot Francis full of some kind of sedative, and he now sat attempting to feed Haruhi oatmeal while the disorderlies began harassing Martha as per usual.

"Open for the train, choo choo!" he said happily.

To Tamaki's utter shock, Haruhi obediently opened her mouth and had some of the oatmeal. Her eyes had lost that blank look they usually had and were now filled with pity. Tamaki felt his heart throb with hope and he sat down on her other side.

"Ah, Frank!" Francis said happily, with an air of drunkenness about him, "Good to see you."

Tamaki looked at him confusedly, and then turned to Haruhi. The corner of her mouth was twitching.

"Haruhi, you know Frank, right? Say hello!" Francis continued. Tamaki shook his head. Haruhi stared up at him.

_Does she also think I'm this guy?_ He thought. She patted Francis on the arm and shook her head. He began eating, seeming to forget Tamaki's existence.

"Haruhi," he said softly in Japanese, "Who was Frank?"

For the first time, Haruhi responded to his Japanese and pointed down the hallway to the patient's dormitories.

"Oh, so he was a patient," Tamaki said to himself, "Interesting…"

Some of Francis' screaming from the night before came back to him as he shoved some tasteless oatmeal in his mouth. How he longed for some miso soup.

"_Don't go in there!"_ The question was, where was "there"?

"Haruhi," he said again. She looked up at him, her eyes slowly going blank. "Where did Frank go?"

Haruhi took a sip of orange juice and then pointed to the corner of the room. There, taking up an entire table to himself, sat the enormous man. He was polishing off his seventh bowl of oatmeal. Tamaki tilted his head to one side, unsure of what to make of this answer.

"Now, now, Haruhi, it's not polite to point," Francis said, reentering the conversation, "Especially not at the WGD…"

_WGD?_ Tamaki wondered. Haruhi slipped her hand back under the table. Francis then passed out, his face falling into his oatmeal, from the tranquilizer. Butch kicked Jim over to them and Tamaki heard a squish as the suction cup of oatmeal released Francis' face. A thud indicated that Jim had let him fall again on an empty part of the table.

"It'd be troublesome if he drowned. How much shit did you give him, Jim?" Butch called over from his seat. Tamaki glanced over and then did a double take. Martha was on her knees while Butch's pants were down. He couldn't see very well since the table was in the way, but the way her ponytail kept bobbing in and out of sight told him exactly what was happening. He turned back to Haruhi, whose eyes had gone blank again.

Butch had started moaning, so Tamaki figured it would be best if he left the room. He walked quickly and quietly to the bathroom and shut the door, the sound of Butch's moans fading behind him. Unlike the other rooms at Thorny Towers (which had neither thorns nor towers) the bathroom was almost completely soundproof. He had discovered this on his third day while avoiding Martha on her way to treatment.

Tamaki contemplated his reflection. It had only been a week, but his face had become drawn and thin. He had dark purple circles under his eyes from the night before.

The bathroom was surprisingly large, he noticed as he walked around. It only contained a toiled on one wall and a sink-cabinet installment on the other with a mirror above it, but it was at least nine square meters in size. Bored as he waited for the spectacle outside to finish, Tamaki wondered why they'd need all this room. He then heard a particularly loud grunt from Butch and decided he'd rather not think about it.

As he waited for the disgusting display to end, he absently played with the cabinets under the sink. They were child-proofed for some reason he couldn't imagine. Out of curiosity, he decided to open them. Inside were some rolls of toilet paper, a spare bottle of soap, and a jar of mustard. Without much to think about, Tamaki found himself noting the details of his surroundings with unusual precision. He had become expertly acquainted with the asylum in a week, but for no actual purpose.

Tamaki shut the cabinets, attributing the mustard to Haruhi and letting loose a little giggle. She was extremely childlike most of the time and something about her touched Tamaki's heart. He wanted to take care of her…

"Like a father!" he announced to the silent bathroom. He sighed. "I just talked to a toilet…I think I get crazier every day."

The door opened. In the asylum there was no room that a patient could both access and lock, he had noted with dismay. Haruhi shuffled in, looking blankly ahead of her. She didn't even acknowledge Tamaki.

"Say, Haruhi," he said, "did you leave this mustard in here?" he asked. She did not respond and pulled down her pants to use the bathroom. He turned away so as not to see anything.

Tamaki suddenly felt embarrassed and dashed out, leaving her alone to do her business.

"That was strange," he said to himself. He was in the cafeteria once again, where, he was relieved to note, Martha and Butch had finished up.

Butch and Jim were carrying the still unconscious Francis away for his treatment while Martha and the WGD (Tamaki couldn't guess what that stood for) were headed towards the activities room. Tamaki followed silently, glancing back to see if Haruhi was done in the bathroom. She wasn't.

Tamaki dashed in front of the WGD as quickly as possible and drew abreast of Martha. It was a serious pain to get stuck behind the WGD, who took up the entire hallway and moved at an incredibly slow pace. Martha smirked at him and pushed the door at the end open, letting him in first.

It was called the activities room, but it was really just an empty space with the table and chairs he had seen on his first day. In the corner was a small box that contained a deck of cards that was missing the three of clubs, a Monopoly game set, and a half-deflated handball. As the three entered, the WGD sat down on a chair and stared into space while Martha went straight for the game box. Tamaki watched her small and beat-up form reach in and grab the deck of cards.

She sat down across from Tamaki and began shuffling the cards.

"Yo, chink, d'you know how to play poker?" she asked. Tamaki stared at her, pretending not to understand.

"Well, whatever, we'll play anyway," she replied. She dealt five cards to him and herself. Tamaki looked over at the WGD questioningly. Martha shook her head.

"He doesn't know how to do anything aside from eat, that one," she said. Tamaki tried to look nonplussed, but Martha wasn't even paying him any attention.

They began playing. Tamaki lost horribly and Martha laughed. They played again. This time Tamaki was dealt a royal flush in the first hand. Martha gasped in disbelief.

"You lucky little shit," she said. She threw back her head and laughed again, but this time it seemed out of control—a wild laugh of ecstasy. He realized that Martha actually belonged in an institution, as did Francis.

He was the only one here that was faking. Would they find him out, he wondered.

"You do remind me of Frank, now that I think about it," she said to herself, "Lucky…"

Tamaki tried to keep his face as blank as possible. Martha looked over at the WGD.

"But then his luck ran out."

DM: That's all for now! Please review and let me know what you think! Next Chapter: Id, Ego, Superego.

I also have two shameless plugs for you:

Shameless plug 1) On my profile I have a new poll asking which of my fics is your favorite. Please vote, because it will help me decide what to do next.

Shameless plug 2) If you like this story, I think we can assume that you're not into the typical fluffy and short Ouran High School Host Club fics that perpetuate the net. If that is indeed the case, please check out my other OHSHC fic (which I just finished) Be Careful What You Wish For. It's got some yaoi and is HikaruxHaruhi, but if you don't mind that, then please do read it.


	4. Id, Ego, Superego

DM: I'm back with another chapter for you

DM: I'm back with another chapter for you! Thanks so much to:

**mattychoochoo  
XxStarxGazerxX  
Matthew  
other  
Spring Iris  
Kisa167  
Krimzon Lilly  
HarunoRin  
Fab5-Blondie  
Kaiya-of-the-shadows**

**catharticdeficit  
**

For your great reviews! One thing I should tell you guys is that, like it says in the summary, this fic is AU, meaning Alternate-universe. So everything you know about the characters from the show/manga is pretty much not correct. Just wanted to clear that up.

Disclaimer: Same as the previous ones.

Warning: Some lemon in this chapter, guys!

**The Ward**

**IV**

**Id, Ego, Superego**

Kyouya was running down a black hallway as it closed around him.

"Kyouya!" Tamaki was calling, but the opening was getting smaller. Tamaki was getting swallowed up by the dark.

"Ootori!" Tamaki cried again. Kyouya ignored the strangeness of being called by his last name and continued to run at full speed.

His breaths were coming in sharp gasps. Tamaki was fading from his vision.

"Dr. Ootori!" a voice yelled. Kyouya stopped running. That definitely wasn't Tamaki. Shifting around, Kyouya realized he was in fact sitting down. He became aware of a vibrating sensation accompanied by a whirring noise.

"Dr. Ootori, we've arrived," Akane said, startling him completely awake.

"Oh," was all he said, his eyes hidden from her by his sleep mask. He felt the familiar surge of rage at being woken up before he felt like it, but suppressed it. Akane removed his mask impetuously, receiving a barely hidden glare in return.

"Sir, we will now proceed on foot," his attendant called, "The area has been secured."

As he recovered from his usual difficulty waking up, Kyouya reminded himself of why exactly he had trekked all the way out to the middle of a Colombian rain forest when he would have much preferred to be sleeping.

According to the lab results, the bag was a special brand of cocaine produced by only one group in the world. A group said to be headed by the richest drug lord of South America, who made his castle in the heart of the Colombian rainforest.

Kyouya watched as Akane bent over to get her bags, giving him a view up her skirt. Her underwear was lacy and red, he noted.

_Now, _Kyouya thought, as they began heading to where they'd camp for the night, _what would the Onibaba have to do with a drug lord?_

"Oh!" Akane cried from behind him. She had slipped and fallen, knocking over the servants behind her, who tossed her tent to the side. Then, in the process of getting up, the tent was kicked into a gully that turned out to be quicksand. The large and expensive tent he had brought exclusively for her use was now no more.

The servants began apologizing profusely, and Akane appeared to be angry, but Kyouya held up a hand to halt the noise.

"It's ok, Miss Wakamura. My tent has room for two," he said. Her smirk transformed into a hopeful smile and at last he realized exactly what she was after.

"So quit your whining," he added, turning on his heel.

_Can't have her thinking I _like_ her, can I?_ he thought to himself, amused by his present situation.

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Francis was high.

Tamaki didn't really know how to handle it, and to be frank, he was the only one who seemed to care.

The older man was straddling a chair, pressing his stomach against the back. Tamaki cringed as he heard it creak up on to two legs.

"Yee haw!" he was shouting, "Ride 'em, cowboy!"

Tamaki dove and caught him just as his face was about to smash into the floor, then proceeded to struggle for a good five minutes before the chair finally rested on all fours once more. Francis was skin and bones, but then again, so was Tamaki. Butch and Jim snickered at the sight.

"You havin' trouble, there, Professor?" Butch called. Martha was, mercifully, in her room with Haruhi.

"Yea, Professor!" Jim echoed. Tamaki felt an eyebrow twitch involuntarily. Jim's mindless echoing was probably going to drive him crazy for real some day.

Even as he sat down to catch his breath, Tamaki kept one eye on Francis. This was the day after his treatment week, just after breakfast, and things were getting out of hand. It was Haruhi's turn soon, but for some reason the disorderlies did not seem in a hurry to get her. They were having too much fun watching Francis' antics after Dr. Wilbur had shot him full of some strange medication the day before.

"Damn straight I'm a professor," he hiccupped, "Francis Neubauer, PhD!"

This time he fell backward out of the chair, his head landing softly on the squishy lap of the WGD. Francis' eyes lost their glazed over look and he got up immediately, heading for his room. Tamaki shot the WGD a scared glance to which he received no reply and followed, leaving Butch and Jim alone with the fat man. To his surprise, Tamaki noted that they too seemed on their guard around him and gave him another look. _Yup, still brainless._ What about him was so scary?

"Yes, that's right, PhD in Psychology," Francis was muttering to himself as he walked ahead. He turned sharply and went into his own room. Tamaki slipped in and closed the door behind him, feeling that he could at last drop his guard for a second. Thankfully, Francis stayed completely wasted for almost twenty-four hours after taking the shot.

Francis never remembered anything he did while high, even that one time he punched Jim in the face. Tamaki would have thought he'd remember something as nice as _that_.

_Whatever,_ he thought, finding himself using that word more and more lately, _works for me._

These conversations with Francis were the only times Tamaki could speak English freely. The rooms were monitored by camera, but Tamaki recognized the microphone from his childhood home at Suoh mansion number two. He used to play a game with Kyouya (actually it was more like he'd play and Kyouya would do his homework) to see how loudly he could say "Tashiro's fat" before Tashiro the security guard would hear him and get mad. One had to be speaking well above their normal voice for the person on the other end to hear anything.

While Tamaki saw this as a stupid oversight on the part of the staff, he had to remind himself that these people worked under the basic assumption that every patient was crazy. The only things they'd need to hear to keep people from killing themselves would probably be shouted. And it wasn't like anyone seemed smart enough to plot an escape.

"Come in, come in," Francis said, patting the bed for Tamaki to sit and taking his own seat in a rickety-looking old fold-up chair. He held an imaginary notepad and pen and began writing in the air. Tamaki knew better than to point this out and sat down.

"Well," Francis said, "What seems to be the problem?" Tamaki sighed.

"I'm pretending to be crazy, Professor," he replied, just as he had every day this week. Francis continued to imagine himself writing things down.

"And," Tamaki added something he realized only at that moment, "I feel terribly guilty for lying to you."

For the first time in those four days, Francis actually looked lucid for a moment when he said, "It seems you're having trouble dealing with your superego, my friend."

Tamaki cocked his head to one side, both confused and relieved. Confused because he couldn't for the life of him remember what a "superego" was, but relieved that the conversation was going in a different direction than usual.

Usually after answering some silly fake-doctor questions, Tamaki would ask about Frank. Francis would then talk about how he had failed to get in to medical school and decided to pursue a PhD in psychology instead, forgetting that Frank had even been mentioned. It turned out that he was in the asylum because he had taken hallucinogens with his students, pretending they were the patients he longed for and gone completely off the deep end. Paranoia and even mild schizophrenia at times took control of him and reduced him to a sobbing heap. Naturally, Dr. Wilbur did not do anything to remedy that.

"Now then, I suppose I should explain what the id, the ego and the superego are. Are you paying attention?" he said sternly, now imagining himself inside a classroom.

"Yes, sir," Tamaki replied, "I'm all ears."

"Now then, the Id is your pleasure-seeking self. It does not care about consequences or morals, it only seeks to have fun and act spontaneously. A person unable to control their Id is capable of massive destruction," he said sagely.

Tamaki nodded, slightly interested. Little did he know that he would meet a pair of Ids in just a few short weeks.

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Kyouya turned on to his back and felt Akane's hot breath against his ear.

_What is she doing in my bed?_ He wondered. Hers was left empty in the luxurious tent the young doctor had brought along for himself. She reached out to him under the covers and pressed a hand against his flat stomach. Kyouya sighed, irritated by having to share his bed with someone, but didn't wake her. Her hand was massaging his stomach rather nicely, anyway.

He gave out an involuntary moan and she massaged a little lower. Lower, until he felt her holding something that was quickly reacting to her antics. He groaned out of both pleasure and irritation.

"What are you up to, Miss Wakamura?" he asked, turning on his side so that they were nose to nose. She opened one eye mischievously and licked her lips. She had yet to release him.

"Please, doctor, call me Akane. I'm not feeling too well right now, you see…" she leaned in and kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth. Kyouya let her do as she pleased, grabbing her hair and winding it around his hand. She moaned and deepened the kiss.

When they finally broke apart for air, she was sitting on top of him. It was only then that he noticed her skimpy negligee, black lace trimmed with red ribbon. He grabbed the hem and lifted it up over her head, carelessly tossing it to the side.

She smirked, bending over so that her pale, smooth breasts filled Kyouya's vision. Before she knew it, he flipped her over and pinned her arms above her head.

"You have no idea what you're in for," he whispered. She leaned up and sealed his mouth with another kiss.

As their tongues teased one another she pulled off his boxers and took hold of him again. He broke the kiss to moan aloud and brought himself to her opening.

"Be gentle," she said sarcastically. Kyouya nipped her neck and earned a squeal.

"As if," he replied, and thrust himself inside.

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"The ego, on the other hand, is learned from our environment," Francis continued, "It is our common sense that guides us in every situation. A rational self-interest, if you will."

Tamaki watched him carefully as he spoke. Francis gesticulated as though in front of a class, referencing periodically to some pretend black board behind him.

In the room next door there was a crash, followed by Jim's high-pitched laugh. Francis stamped his foot indignantly.

"Will you keep it down in the back, there? Class is in session!" He strode out of the room into the hallway, where an interesting scene was taking place.

Butch was holding Martha by the neck while she clawed at his shirt pathetically. Jim had Haruhi around the middle and was lifting her petite frame completely off the floor.

She turned her large, sad eyes to Tamaki, and they touched him somehow. Something in her messy and short brown hair, her skinny legs, made him want to protect her. She was too cute for this place!

He ran over and grabbed her out of Jim's hands, slinging her over his shoulder and making a run for the cafeteria. Butch dropped Martha and tackled Tamaki to the ground just as the three smashed through the swinging doors. Tamaki landed with his face in Haruhi's lap and something hard and unpleasant on his ass.

Lifting his head cautiously and looking behind him, he noticed Butch lying on him. He felt like he was going to throw up when Jim helped his partner up and rescued him. Haruhi patted him on the shoulder and shook her head, deciding at last to go quietly to her treatment.

"I'm sorry," Tamaki whispered. She looked him in the eyes again and smiled, causing his heart to skip a beat.

_What a cute daughter I have,_ he thought happily. Butch was eyeing him strangely again, so he hobbled (he had bruised his knees in the collision) back to Francis before he could get any ideas. Martha watched him go by with narrowed eyes. How Tamaki longed to explain that this was not his fault.

"You also seem to be lacking some ego," Francis said, snickering at Tamaki's failed attempt at rescue. The younger man just shrugged.

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"He was surprisingly good," Akane said to herself as she rooted through Kyouya's bag.

He had fallen asleep after two rounds, giving her the time she needed to go through his belongings.

"Ah, here," she said, grinning widely. She pulled out the investigation regarding the fired kitchen assistant and began leafing through it, standing naked next to the bed.

All of a sudden, she felt something cold against the small of her back. She twisted her neck a little and saw a small metallic gun barrel pressed against the bottom of her spine. Kyouya turned on a lamp and his face came into view, shadowed eerily by the weak light.

"If I shoot right now you will probably die. If you live, you won't ever be able to walk again nor even have children. If I hit your kidney on the way out, that's bonus points for renal failure, really," he said, using his free hand to push his glasses up his nose.

"You bastard," she whispered. He smiled widely at that and pressed the gun harder against her back.

"Drop the papers, Miss Wakamura, if you don't mind," he continued. She let them fall to the floor.

"Outside this tent is surrounded should you manage to escape my clutches." He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger.

"I will never tell you anything," she replied harshly, "even if you shoot!"

He shrugged, finding her response boring.

"I don't need you to tell me anything," he countered, causing her to gasp, "I already know everything about you. You see, you asked me once, my dear, why I didn't use the family private investigator for this. The thing was, you were rather suspicious, volunteering to help me like that and all. After you refused to let me in the Onibaba's room I set him on you. I have your entire background compiled and waiting for me at home."

Akane was on the verge of tears.

"Then why did you play along for so long? Why did you drag me out here?" she cried, frustrated with his carefree attitude.

"Several reasons. Mostly to have this conversation. You were surprisingly good too, _Akane_," he responded, grinning rather evilly.

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"Ok, ok," Tamaki said, lifting up both hands in surrender, "So what's this superego thing that I'm "afflicted" with?"

Francis smiled the smile of a deranged man and clapped his hands together.

"The superego is your conscience. It is your mind's answer to your body's Id. Your sense of morality. It is what truly separates us from beasts," he said proudly. It was clearly his favorite of the three.

"But, you must be careful, my dear Frederick, careful…" he muttered, trailing off. Tamaki wanted to say "My name isn't Frederick," but decided to just let it slide. He stood up, realizing that Francis was probably finished now.

"Be careful!" Francis cried, turning around so suddenly that Tamaki fell back down on the bed, "Be careful or you'll be eaten! Just like Frank! Frank, who felt it was his duty to free us from here! Don't try to take anyone with you, just go! It's my fault that you died—Frank, please forgive me, Frank!"

Francis had now pinned Tamaki against the wall and was shaking furiously, almost foaming at the mouth. An alarm went off somewhere. Whoever was watching the camera had had just about enough of this nonsense.

Gertrude strode into the room flanked by Butch and Jim. She snapped and they removed Francis immediately, taking him somewhere Tamaki couldn't guess.

"Watch out, or you're next," Gertrude said over her shoulder as she left.

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Kyouya smirked as he watched Akane's naked form standing in the middle of the forest, her bag at her feet. She resolutely bit back her tears.

"You should just kill me and get it over with," she called out over the whirring of the helicopter as it started to move. Kyouya paused on the ladder and turned back.

"That's not my style," he replied, "I'm a doctor; I'm morally obligated not to kill people." She flipped him off.

"You're going to regret it," she called back again. He waved goodbye.

"I hope I do," he said to himself, "I hope I do."

DM: Whew, a lot of stuff happened just then. Sorry for you guys who were hoping for a little smut, but I'm not ready for full-on lemon in this story yet (to be honest, I have yet to master the art of describing an orgasm without sounding cheesy). In later chapters, yes, but not right now. Anyway, please review and tell me what you think! I hope this made Kyouya's storyline a bit more exciting…Did you guys get how the Id controls Kyouya in the sex scene and then the Ego when he catches her and then the Superego when he lets her live? I'm so proud of that, hee hee! Next Chapter: Treatment


	5. Treatment

DM: I'm back after my little vacation! Sorry for the long wait. Here's my thank-you list:

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Kaiya-of-the-Shadows**

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Disclaimer: yea, it's the same as always…Just a warning about this chapter, guys, I put this fic in the "horror" genre for a reason…

**The Ward**

**V**

**Treatment**

The water seemed especially cold the morning it all started to change. Tamaki didn't realize it as he let the dirty water run down his face, but this was the day things would change. In eighteen hours he would learn the horrible truth and begin his desperate bid for freedom.

However, at the moment he was more concerned with the stare he felt on his cold, wet backside. He resolutely remained turned away, trying to busy himself in washing his hair, but wondered if that wasn't such a good idea.

Butch had taken to watching him shower with an avid and fascinated expression that made Tamaki cringe and shudder in fear. Occasionally he'd hear a rustle of fabric that caused bile to rise up in his throat. He never dared to turn around at those times.

Behind him, he heard Butch tell Jim in a low, grunting voice to leave the room. Jim, Tamaki could see out of the corner of his eye, was more than a little dismayed, but obeyed his superior nonetheless.

_Perhaps he likes to watch,_ Tamaki thought wryly. He then shuddered, feeling a wave of nausea at his own thought.

Bracing himself for the sickening rubbing sound he knew was coming, Tamaki jumped nearly a foot in the air when he heard instead a step on the wet floor. Butch was coming towards him.

Unsure of how to react, Tamaki turned to face his attacker, determined to show a strong face, but only felt all the more sick at the sight of his yellow, toothy grin. The larger man cracked his knuckles gleefully.

"What are you gonna do, slim?" Butch asked, licking his lips slowly and deliberately.

Tamaki felt his hands involuntarily clench into fists. His assailant noticed and his smile only widened.

"You don't want to stay here longer, do ya?" he asked slyly. Tamaki widened his eyes as he realized what that meant.

If he fought with an employee, the judge in Japan might extend his sentence. But at the same time he couldn't let Butch get the better of him this one time. If it happened now, it would always happen, he concluded, feeling his heart sink.

"Anyway," Butch continued, failing to notice that Tamaki understood what he was saying, "Fight _too_ much and you'll become garbage."

Tamaki had no time to even look puzzled, because Butch chose that moment to swoop after him. Thanks to his wet and slippery skin, he managed to evade Butch's bear-like arms and run a little distance away, toward the doorway. He didn't dare look directly at it, but could see a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps Jim was watching after all.

All Tamaki could do was run, but the punch that came at him from the side took him by surprise and he slipped and fell instead. The loud smack of flesh against wet linoleum echoed in the large shower room. Hidden in the sound was the crack of the back of his head against the floor, mercifully light, but painful nonetheless.

Only once the stars began to clear did he see Butch in a tussle with Martha over his fallen and naked body. He dimly wondered if she had been the one to punch him as he watched Butch wrestle her to the floor. She shot Tamaki a smug look of triumph, to which he replied with a sickened smile.

Suddenly, a face was hovering above his, upside down and blocking the already weak light. After a couple of blinks, he realized it was Haruhi, cocking her head to the side.

Completely forgetting that he was naked and wet, Tamaki got up and took the girl's extended hand. As Butch busied himself with Martha as he usually did, the two made their quiet exit. Jim was nowhere in sight, and Tamaki sighed with relief, only to feel an insistent tug on his hand.

Haruhi was gesturing back to the bedroom area, because coming down the hall were the two nurses, Gertrude and Betty. One look in their eyes and Tamaki knew.

Today he would be treated.

He and Haruhi dashed down the hall away from them, running desperately. The two followed at a leisurely pace, so sure in their success that they no longer bothered to make an effort.

As they ran, Tamaki was becoming aware of two things:

Firstly, they had nowhere to go.

Secondly, and most importantly, he was running stark naked through the hallway. After a cold shower.

He released Haruhi's hand and she turned around to give him a questioning look. He sighed and shrugged, stepping into his room, amazed at the back of his mind that they had made it this far. Gertrude and Betty were calmly walking by Francis' room at the moment, chatting about the weather.

Haruhi seemed to realize that Tamaki minded being naked in front of her, so she went back to her room. It would be her turn to shower soon anyway, once Butch and Martha finished their business. Tamaki got dressed slowly; now that the adrenaline had left him he was becoming aware of bruises forming along his back and head from the fall and it made moving rather a pain.

"Oh, look at that, Betty," Gertrude exclaimed. Tamaki couldn't suppress a cringe as he realized that they'd arrived at his room and were watching him dress with indifference.

"How nice, he's being obedient now, Gertrude," she replied, her voice filled with a strangely mechanical menace.

The two continued to watch in silence as Tamaki brought his shirt up over his head. He wondered briefly if they could smell his fear of treatment; hear the pounding in his chest and the loud swallows he made.

At last he succeeded in putting on the shirt, despite the pain, and turned to face them. Their faces were frozen into smiles without warmth.

Moving more quickly than Tamaki thought possible, the two grabbed him under each arm.

Maybe it was their long nails, but Tamaki suddenly envisioned a large bird of prey swooping down and flying him through the sky. With a strength that rivaled that of the orderlies, they dragged him out of the room. He didn't resist at all, yet they continued to be rough, digging their shiny French manicure fills into his thin arms as they practically carried him through the hallway.

Tamaki found himself unceremoniously thrown into Wilbur's office, where the old man sat typing away at his computer. The door shut behind him and suddenly the only light was the small screen of the monitor, casting eerie shadows over the doctor's face.

After a few more clicks and taps, he turned to face Tamaki, who had miraculously found the couch and was now sitting cross-legged upon it. Tamaki watched the shadows move on Wilbur's face into what resembled the crooked smile of a jack-o-lantern. His teeth shone brightly in the blue light.

"So, Tamaki," he began, moving his hands around his desk as though searching for something, "You don't understand what I'm saying, huh?"

Tamaki didn't move, too worried about what those unseen hands were looking for. Wilbur gave a small triumphant exhale and with a click, turned on a bright desk lamp.

"It's ok though," he continued, "I've heard that the eyes can tell more than words." He angled it to shine almost directly in Tamaki's face.

Tamaki squinted and put a hand up to shield his eyes, but Wilbur grabbed it and pinned it down on the couch.

"So you killed your grandmother, did you?" he hissed. As Tamaki's eyes adjusted, the doctor's face began to swirl into focus, a look of grim delight playing upon the wrinkled features.

"You killed her with your own hands—I heard it was a stabbing," he continued, indifferent to Tamaki's feigned look of confusion.

His hands began to churn excitedly in front of him as he made stabbing motions in the air, smacking his lips. Tamaki leaned back against the sofa. The light from the lamp was getting hot now. Had he really been so cold a moment ago?

"How did it feel, I wonder," Wilbur was saying, "To feel the knife press in, the muscles of her neck and chest contracting in a vain attempt to resist. Did she scream, I wonder, as the warm blood oozed out—they said you were covered in it, did it feel good? Did it make you more beautiful?"

Tamaki felt the bile rise in his throat once more and realized that Butch's escapade had cost him breakfast. However, he didn't meditate on that too long as Wilbur's hands danced in the bright light, his words making Tamaki visualize the gruesome murder he didn't even commit.

"When was it that you realized she was dead? Did she say anything? Did you hear her ask you, 'Why, oh why?' as you expelled the last bits of her soul? Did you watch, your eyes wide, as the life in her eyes was extinguished forever? Knowing that you and you alone had ended a human life with your bare hands?" Wilbur's voice had grown loud and booming, and now he stood in front of Tamaki, the bright light radiating around him like some kind of halo.

"You, who were brought into this world only because of her, you killed her!" he shouted, pointing a hand that now seemed very large at Tamaki. The entire room seemed to quake with his rage.

And then it was over.

The light was suddenly pointing away from him, lighting the whole room evenly. Wilbur was sitting down, legs crossed, calmly typing at his computer again.

Tamaki gave a shuddering sigh and noticed something wet dribbling over his lips. Unaware as to when he had begun crying, Tamaki wiped his face quickly with his shirt and refocused his eyes on the doctor, who was smiling thoughtfully.

"Now then, I hope you understand, Tamaki," he said without looking up, "That until you have repented of your horrible deed you will not leave this place."

_But I didn't_—he found himself protesting in his mind. Wilbur seemed to find his silence defiant, as if he could hear Tamaki's thoughts, and slammed his hand on the desk.

"I heard why you did it, boy," he said coldly, not looking at his shaking patient, "You thought, 'I'd better kill her before she kills me,' didn't you?" His voice when he imitated Tamaki was sing-song and feminine.

"It was all in your mind, in the darkness that swirls there, waiting to take you prisoner," Wilbur whispered. His face was now centimeters from Tamaki's.

"There is no darkness like that of the human soul, boy, remember that," he said, shoving Tamaki so he was lying on the couch, helpless. He stood up and moved to a cabinet.

Sick from imagining all the blood, partially believing Wilbur's words, a desperate feeling of hopelessness pressing down on his chest, Tamaki could not get up, even though he knew what was coming.

He watched as Wilbur flicked the needle after filling it. He tried to scream but it died in his throat as the point slid into his skin at the elbow. His toes twitched and strange thoughts came bubbling to the surface of his mind.

How long had he been there? Days, it seemed. Could he get some sushi? He was so hungry that he felt nauseous both at the idea of eating and not eating. Why was it getting so dark?

And who was that man, the one laughing at him from above?

_God, probably_, he decided, before drifting into the blackness.

* * *

Kyouya took his coffee black as he read Akane's files. Home at last in the Ootori mansion, he could finally get to the bottom of this wild goose chase.

_Yakuza_, he thought, wrinkling his nose with distaste. She belonged to a Japanese mob group. And she was one of the higher ups, too. How messy the situation had now become.

Draining the last of his coffee, Kyouya sat back and pondered the facts he had deduced.

Fact one: Yakuza knew that the crime was going to happen, since they were able to place Akane in his household two weeks prior to its being committed.

Fact two: They also knew that he would look into the matter personally, which is why Akane was there to lead him astray. This meant that they were totally aware of his aide to Tamaki during the trial and his friendship with the Suoh heir.

Fact three: The budget for the Yakuza's participation in this scheme was huge. He knew this because a private helicopter appeared for Akane mere hours after he'd left, the spies he'd placed behind informed him.

Taking a sip of his newly-replenished cup, he left the world of fact and moved into his hypothesis.

Kyouya had a very strong feeling that the gang had murdered the Onibaba, or were at least covering for the murderer. What he could not tell was why.

_Money, probably,_ he concluded, placing his cup down and informing his assistant that they would visit the Don's office that evening.

While Tamaki's rational conscious slept on, a new Tamaki inhabited the body of the original as it paraded around the asylum.

He made his presence known in the activities room by calmly walking up to Martha and punching her squarely in the nose, giggling as blood began to spurt. Her cards fell to the floor and Francis and Haruhi looked up from the game with puzzled expressions.

It served her right, he felt, for punching him that morning.

Ignoring the fact that Martha was clinging to his leg, Tamaki turned to Haruhi, beaming brightly.

Her face was blank, as usual, but this didn't seem to matter to the new Tamaki, who took her face in his hands and kissed her firmly on the lips.

What a delightful feeling! How soft and squishy!

And, floating on this sensation, Tamaki kicked Martha off and sashayed out of the room. Haruhi had fallen out of her chair and was now flailing on the ground. Martha lay clutching her face and moaning passionately.

Francis ignored the pandemonium around him and sprinted after Tamaki. Just as he slipped out the door the orderlies walked in, shocked by what was taking place.

"Tamaki!" Francis called. Tamaki did a pirouette and slipped into his room.

Someone was saying his name, he mused, distant from the world around him.

"Tamaki!" Francis repeated, bursting into the room to find Tamaki stretching on the bed. He paused a moment to catch his breath, the younger man watching him with childlike interest.

"Yes, yes," Tamaki sang, first in French, then in Japanese, his two mother tongues. Francis paused, looking a little confused, but then shook his head and continued.

"Tamaki, now that you know what treatment is, you must work together with me!" he exclaimed, taking Tamaki's hands in his.

"Huh?" was the only reply he received. Francis began pacing back and forth.

"We are like a brotherhood, we, the men of this asylum," he stated proudly, putting a hand over his heart, "And we must correct its corrupt and evil ways!"

Tamaki was still confused, but had begun thinking about princess cake (the kind with green marzipan on top) and smiled dreamily. Francis took this for a look of consent.

"Now then," he said in his usual way, "Let us make a pact to unravel the legacy Frank left us, my dear boy," he stated proudly, "Tonight in the third hour I shall come to wake you."

Tamaki, who at this point believed that Francis was offering him yet another slice of cake (he was already on his third), simply nodded. The two clasped hands and the younger fell back asleep on the bed, knocked out from the unknown drug in his veins.

* * *

Entering the compound had been surprisingly easy: as soon as the grunts knew who he was they let him pass.

They were in a tall office building in Shibuya, the home of the local Don and his Yakuza lackeys, who welcomed him as an expected guest.

Kyouya did not like the fact that he was expected and was glad he had brought a small army with which to guard himself. The Don's floor was at the top, the twenty-first floor (he fancied Black Jack), and the elevators were mysteriously out of order. Who could tell what he might encounter along the way.

They were getting closer now. After the first floor the next nineteen seemed to breeze by. Kyouya felt a strange anxiety, a pressure in his stomach as he willed it to take longer.

The twentieth floor was through the door just ahead of him, held by his men. He was panting slightly from climbing all those stairs, albeit slowly. The Don was playing with him.

Now he had to enter the twentieth floor to access the stairs to floor twenty-one. The monotony of it was grueling and Kyouya felt more and more ill at ease with each second.

No longer being led by the Yakuza men (only the highest were allowed up to the twentieth floor) Kyouya wandered through the rooms. It was filled with private offices in a labyrinth of hallways, with no sign pointing to the stairs. He tried each door to find empty desks, store rooms filled with drugs, some with money, some with weapons.

The Don was showing him this to scare him. To play with him. But Kyouya knew better. He knew that it was all faked to psych him out, set him off-guard for his meeting. Nobody in their right mind would keep everything there. The police could come at any moment.

_No_, he thought_, he just wants me to think he's powerful_. With this reasoning in mind, Kyouya felt reassured as he opened the next door.

Well, at the back was the doorway to the stairs, but it was what lay writing passionately between him and those stairs that distracted him.

Akane moaned derisively from beneath a burly man in a suit. The man squeezed her exposed breast, flicking the nipple lightly as he turned to see the intruder. Akane squirmed with pleasure.

Kyouya felt a variety of things at that moment, mostly disgust, but also a new feeling he'd never had before. It was a slow rage boiling from his stomach, clouding his mind.

His hand twitched as Akane and the man smiled.

* * *

Just five blocks away from the office building in Shibuya was an art gallery, with an opening that night for two debut artists, up and coming in the world of fashion, painting and sculpting.

Two red-haired young men, tall and slim but not the tallest in the room, took identical sips from identical cosmopolitans, much to the delight of the women around them.

The Hitachiin brothers, twins in every respect of the word, cast a critical eye over their opening. People seemed mildly hypnotized by the symmetry of everything.

Their biggest success was a large painting of an egg with two perfectly identical sprouts hatching from it. Nobody believed that they had each painted a half at the same time, without looking at the other, yet they taped it to prove it was true.

"Oh, Hikaru, we've really done it this time, haven't we?" one asked the other, his golden eyes flickering almost imperceptibly to the girls in rapture over their yin-yang series of self-portrait sculptures, intertwined impossibly at times, sexually at others.

"Why yes, Kaoru, I think we have," Hikaru replied, nudging his brother lightly and pointing with his drink to the large bay window.

The two walked slowly and casually towards it. In the moonless night Tokyo Tower shined its brightest. They looked at each other.

"My my, as elegant as ever," a woman said, sidling up to them. Her friends trailed behind her, awed by the handsome duplicates.

"Why thank you, my lady," Hikaru said, shaking her offered hand. She then shook hands with Kaoru.

"I'm a reporter for _The Times_, darling, and I was wondering if you could tell us what you see next in your work," she asked. The twins were a little annoyed that she had stuck around for so long, but they looked at each other and nodded.

"Well, we may move away from symmetry," Hikaru began carefully.

"And from conventional art forms," Kaoru continued.

The lady looked confused but jotted down notes nonetheless.

"You see, art is something deeper than just material," Hikaru picked up, making broad gestures with his arms, "It can be other things too."

"Like what?" she asked, her pen hovering above the notepad. Kaoru gave Hikaru a meaningful look.

"Like a happening," he said simply. The lady remained confused and did not take any notes.

"Yes, a great happening," Hikaru continued, resuming his philosophical tone, "A happening that will shake the foundations of art in Japan."

"I imagine it will cause quite a stir," Kaoru said, draining the last of his martini. The two shared a silent laugh.

DM: Whew, that was long! Ok sorry to leave with cliffhanger-like situations on all three storylines (yay we have twins now!) but it's necessary. Please review and I will update very quickly! If I get nice reviews there may even be a little twincest in the future…so review!

A couple notes on this chapter:

When Wilbur says "Did it make you more beautiful?" to Tamaki, he's making a sort of random reference to this duchess in Transylvania who believed that bathing in the blood of virgins would make her young and beautiful.

The joke in that last bit is that they're drinking martinis: shaken vs stirred. Haha? No? Sigh.


	6. The Three of Clubs

DM: Well I'm back at last with another installment for you. Things are kind of getting crazy, I realize. Oh well. My lovely reviewers:

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Disclaimer: Same as always. **Warning:** this is gruesome.

**The Ward**

**VI**

**The Three of Clubs**

Bang. The gun in Kyouya's hand went off of its own accord. He was unprepared for the slight recoil and took a step back as the tip began to smoke.

Thud. Unseen by him, he knew that the man's body had fallen to the floor. He couldn't look at it. Not yet, anyway.

Gasp. His men seemed shocked by his random use of violence. It didn't matter.

Shriek. Akane began to cry out. Kyouya had shot her lover almost without hesitation or reason.

His men broke rank as Akane sank down in the older man's blood. His face was pressed harshly to the floor from the impact, the exit wound of the bullet leaving a rose-like blossom of red on his shirt that kept spreading. Akane had several red splatters on her face and neck. The bullet had lodged itself into the wall behind her.

Without waiting for the barrel to cool, Kyouya slipped it back into its holster and crossed the room. He never spared Akane, or her red lacy corset, a single glance, yet let her live.

The small team he brought with him glanced at each other uncertainly, but decided to follow. Their leader had a steely gaze and took long strides, as if the scene that had just taken place was of little consequence, so they too decided to treat it as such.

One by one, they filed after him up to the boss' room.

* * *

Something strange was going on in the ward, and it seemed that everyone but Tamaki knew the cause.

Ever since he'd awakened from his drug-induced stupor, Tamaki had received several requests from Martha that he make love to her. He found no reasonable explanation for this, and so turned to Haruhi.

Upon seeing him, she turned bright red and promptly ran away, leaving him alone in the game room with Martha and the rest. Tamaki sighed.

"C'mon, chink-eyes, let's do it!" Martha moaned, pulling on his arm.

Without thinking, he shook her off, which only made her squeal in delight. He looked around and his eyes met the vacant ones of the WGD. He shivered. The blob had taken its customary chair, oozing over the sides, and seemed, if anything, larger than ever.

He glanced at Francis, who seemed to be playing solitaire. Martha was clawing his leg rather painfully, but at last the older man looked up.

"Ah, _Tam_aki," Francis said happily, mispronouncing his name. Tamaki was just glad that he knew his name at all.

Francis picked up one of the cards and strolled over to the blond, who was now vaguely walking away from his unwanted suitor, despite her hold on his leg.

"Look what I found, old boy," he whispered, hiding the card between his and Tamaki's bodies. It was the three of clubs that had "gone missing" from the deck.

"Now that we've made our pact, I can show you the beauty of Frank's theory."

* * *

Officer Tanaka was sitting calmly at his desk in the Tokyo precinct. His feet were up, his favorite game show was on, and it had been a quiet day.

He took a sip of his coffee, glancing at the clock. Eight pm. His shift was almost done.

The young cop sighed. He always liked desk days the best, because they allowed him to reflect on the choices he'd made as an officer of the law. Not that he didn't like action, but he was really more of a thinker.

Imagine his surprise when two young men walked in, twins with orange-red hair, just as he set his coffee down.

"Can I help you boys?" he asked, eyeing them suspiciously. The two were looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

"Yes well, we'd like to turn ourselves in," the one on the left said slowly, as if the officer was a little slow.

"For what?" he asked, his professional exterior dropping in surprise. They looked to be in their earlier twenties, barely out of their teens.

"Oh, is that how this works?" the one on the right asked. His twin elbowed him.

"Hikaru!" the left one scolded. Hikaru blushed.

"Set your television to channel five," the one called Hikaru said quickly, trying to hide his embarrassment. The other one giggled.

"Quit it, Kaoru," he whispered.

Officer Tanaka was quite confused, but did as he was told.

"May we come back and watch with you?" Kaoru asked innocently. Tanaka shook his head.

"Stay behind the yellow line, please," he said curtly. The channel showed a night-time view of Tokyo Tower behind a newswoman who was evidently on location in Tokyo. She was discussing the stock market changes.

"Sorry, it's our first time," Hikaru explained, as the two almost comically attempted to place themselves barely behind the line.

"Good thing I brought my portable," Kaoru said, whipping out what looked like a miniature television. Soon the woman's voice blared out from two locations.

"The increase in the price of oil has markedly affected the—BOOM," a small explosion drowned out the rest of her words.

Tanaka bolted upright, removing his feet from the desk. Had he imagined it, or had the top of Tokyo Tower burst into flames? The newscaster looked back and screamed in terror. No, it had actually happened.

"Here comes the good part," Hikaru said gleefully. Tanaka glanced at him, only to have Kaoru furiously point his attention back to the TV.

When he turned back to it, all four posts that made up the base of the tower exploded simultaneously, and another bomb went off in the top.

"Ah! I _knew_ that would work well!" Kaoru exclaimed, "Good thing we bought the expensive timer."

Tanaka looked up at the twins again, his face pale and his mouth open. His lower lip quivered as he struggled to form words.

"Y-you did that?" he gasped out. The two grinned and nodded.

"See, _that's_ what we came to see you about!"

* * *

Tamaki, still slightly hung-over from the drugs, didn't bother to check for Butch or Jim. He peered at the card in Francis' hand without hesitation, Martha's advances completely forgotten.

The three of clubs had grown incredibly dirty, with little red stains on almost all the open space. Tamaki blinked a few times and suddenly the stains focused into English. Luckily, reading had always been his best skill.

_WGD is their secret weapon. Watch out or you'll become garbage._

_Two robot queens are unnecessary. There can only be one jack. But he is not a prince._

_Syringes. Oatmeal. Eat or be eaten._

_The knight can only move as directed and is thus easy to avoid._

"This is nuts," Tamaki whispered. Francis, not shocked at all that Tamaki had suddenly learned English, nodded.

"I know; he mixes chess and cards—what blasphemy!"

* * *

"Why hello, Mr. Ootori," a smooth voice called out in the dark. Kyouya was at last in the lair of the boss, though he could see nothing in the thick blackness.

"Hello to you, sir," Kyouya replied in a cool, business-like tone. The boss chuckled.

"I didn't know you were so cruel. Poor Akane," he said. Kyouya grimaced.

He hadn't meant to lose control like that, but now it was too late.

The lights came on all at once, temporarily blinding the young man. The head yakuza sat at the back of the room in a throne-like chair, with two lackeys on either side.

"What brings you here, my friend?" he asked coyly. Kyouya tilted his head to the side and smiled, not revealing his moment of weakness.

"I'd like to know why Akane lead me to Colombia and attempted to seduce and to rob me," the dark haired man replied. The boss laughed in response.

He was a slightly overweight man in his fifties, the picture of the opulent world of organized crime.

"Just thought I'd make things interesting," the older man answered, smiling genially, "I'm not allowed to check out the hot gossip of the aristocratic world?"

Kyouya sighed inwardly, annoyed by the games they were playing.

"What do you know about the death of Mrs. Suoh?" he asked calmly, as if in passing.

"I don't know anything, nor do I have a reason too," the yakuza replied. Kyouya clenched a fist: he was right. There was nothing in it for the yakuza to have the onibaba die.

"But," the man continued, piquing Kyouya's interest, "I bet you her son might know a thing or two."

Kyouya looked away at last. He had feared it would come to this. He didn't know where Tamaki's dad was, or what he was doing. How could he solve the mystery without this key piece?

"Don't look so down," the old man said, laughing, "He'll be back soon. He can't stay away for long…"

* * *

Just as Francis uttered those words, Butch and Jim came over and wrestled the two apart. Tamaki clenched the card in his hand and held it behind his back.

A small, cool hand took it from him. Looking over his shoulder, he realized it was Haruhi. She made a motion to shush him and he turned back to the orderlies.

"Whacha doin, _professor_?" Butch asked Francis, who rested limply in his grip.

"Oh nothing, just discussing chess, that's all," Francis replied, his face suddenly bright red. Perhaps it was the drugs, but Tamaki could swear that his face was blowing up like a red balloon. He tilted his head to the side and watched the exchange.

"I dunno bout that," Jim said. He brought Tamaki's hands forward and forced them open.

"Hm, I swear he was holding something," the large man observed. He shrugged it off and joined Butch as they dragged Francis towards the nurse's station. Gertrude and Betty were awaiting his arrival eagerly.

Tamaki fell to a sitting position on the floor, unaware of what was happening around him. Everything seemed to be very far away, and he felt the pull of the drugs on him again. He fell back asleep.

* * *

It wasn't until around three in the morning that Tamaki awoke again. He didn't know the exact cause for a few moments, but it soon became apparent.

Francis was screaming again. And much more passionately than before.

"Don't eat me! _Please_ don't eat me!" he pleaded. He sounded to Tamaki like he was awake.

Groggily, the young man sat up, just as he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," he replied lazily in Japanese, rubbing his eyes.

Haruhi stepped in lightly, her small, pale form practically aglow in the moonlight that flooded the hallway. Tamaki was so happy to see her that he jumped out of bed.

She quickly took a step back in retreat and his face fell. Whatever he had done while drugged must have been serious, he concluded.

The girl gestured out into the hallway, and Tamaki followed her without question. Francis was still screaming, and Tamaki was feeling more sober than he had all day.

The shrieks grew louder as they approached Francis' room, but when they peaked inside, no one was there.

It was coming from the WGD's room.

Tamaki felt his blood run cold. Every hair on his body seemed to stand up as he realized that Francis wasn't dreaming. Haruhi covered her eyes, looking like she was about to cry.

As if drawn by a hypnotic force, Tamaki opened the door to the WGD's room, despite the sudden, horrible nausea flooding his stomach.

Inside, the WGD sat, holding Francis by the armpits, like a child, and trying to lift him into his outstretched mouth. For the first time Tamaki noticed how sharp his teeth were, how cavernous the inside of his mouth really was. Francis' head could fit inside.

And it did. The screaming suddenly stopped as the WGD took his first big bite. Tamaki felt dizzy and everything grew dotty. The bile rose up in his stomach—he'd slept through dinner, and he dry retched before running back to his room, Haruhi in tow.

The image of his grandmother's bleeding neck returned to him. Who knew the human body held that much blood?

Before fainting, Tamaki heard Haruhi whimper.

It was the first sound he'd ever heard her make.

DM: Well, uhm…yea. I don't know what to say. Please review, my lovelies, and you will see what happens to our heroes next! Next chapter: New Arrivals.


	7. New Arrivals

DM: I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't be mad at me for not updating for so long! Life has kind of gotten in the way, but now I'm on top of things! I promise! Just a quick thank you to my reviewers (there were more this time! I'm so happy!):

**Kaiya-of-the-Shadows Krimzon Lilly La Grapadora**

**MarauderWormtail89 Rowangirl96 Merzky Nadsat**

**KageTora staggered incite xXLieselotteXx**

**Yssa B. Matthew HarunoRin**

**Sharmaine Inudoggieearlover Bazoo**

Disclaimer: Same as usual. **Warning:** Contains hints of twincest (but no actual twincest).

**The Ward**

**Chapter VII**

**New Arrivals**

Tamaki was sure that he was a goner.

Butch took another step towards him and he tried to inch away. The shock of the cold tiled wall hitting his back told him he had nowhere to go.

Naked, wet, crouched in the corner of a dingy shower, Tamaki sighed in resignation.

The orderly gave a large grin, glad that his prey had finally succumbed.

Another step. Closer to Butch than he had ever been before, Tamaki noticed his heavily pockmarked cheeks, and how his upper lip curled in a permanent sneer. Butch noticed Tamaki's stare and laughed, his mouth wide. Tamaki could see his uvula dancing at the back of his throat, and felt the sudden urge to vomit.

"That's right, you're a lucky sonuvabitch," Butch jeered, "I'm pretty handsome, huh? Ha ha!"

The laughter continued. Tamaki glanced furtively from right to left. No one was coming to save him this time.

"Butch!" Gertrude's voice rang sharply in the bathroom.

Tamaki watched the larger man's face fall and exhaled. He hadn't realized that he was holding his breath until that moment.

Butch dragged his feet, muttering angrily to himself. A small splash of dirtied water came up with each step. Jim was waiting for him at the door, shaking his head.

"Now, Butch." She enunciated very carefully and slowly. Butch practically leapt into a jog, and Jim scuttled away ahead of him.

Alone, Tamaki became aware of a faint dripping sound. The shower was leaking. Had it always leaked? He became aware of a pain in his lower back and slowly stood up from his crouched position.

He was really alone. They were gone. He was safe – for now.

Walking calmly to where his uniform lay, Tamaki sighed. Martha had not asked anyone to punch her since that night, one week ago. Haruhi was of course silent, although Tamaki had seen her once or twice sitting in her room, moving her lips soundlessly (though he couldn't be sure, as he'd spent the entirety of the week in treatment). She had lost her childlike attitude and sullenly stared at the WGD whenever they were in the same room.

As he pulled the now-worn grey shirt over his head, he thought about Francis again. It made his chest hurt and bile rise in his throat to think about how he'd lost the only person he could talk to – poor, poor Francis. Yet he had passed on the message – Francis and Frank had both known what was meant by the writing on the three of clubs. It was Tamaki's only hope of getting out alive. But Haruhi had it – Haruhi who never looked at him when he spoke to her – what was she thinking?

He had to face the reality – she was insane; that's why she was there. What could he expect from her?

Voices were coming from the entryway. It was odd that the staff would gather there. The last time they had all gone there had been when Tamaki had first arrived.

"What did you say to me?" Betty practically shrieked.

"I asked," a voice responded, with a slight Japanese accent, "Are you a natural blonde?"

A slap was heard, followed by the rustle of cloth. Butch and Jim had most likely apprehended the offender.

Tamaki peered into the hallway, curious about the visitor that had saved him.

"You will not behave in this manner in this institution," Gertrude said softly. It was a very dangerous sentence: not a command or a request, a statement, as if it could not be any other way.

A laugh was heard, and the voice spoke again, "Do you know who I _am_, fatty?" Tamaki felt his mouth twitch and boldly approached the room.

Patients weren't allowed in the entryway, let alone the hallway to it, but he didn't care. He had to see what all the fuss was about. He was almost smiling for the first time in a long time.

There was another rustle of clothing as Tamaki peered around the corner. Butch had a red-haired man in a headlock, and Jim was restraining an identical man with his arms. Betty was shaking with anger.

Gertrude stood calmly. Like a statue, she seemed not to breathe nor blink. Tamaki felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

The twins (he couldn't believe there were two of them) still bore identical smiles, unfazed by her rage.

"I think you need to receive treatment early," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No way," the twin in the headlock said immediately, with the attitude of a child refusing to eat broccoli.

For a second, the entire staff looked taken aback.

"We have orders from our doctor that you're not supposed to give us treatment," the other twin said, "We have allergies to most medications, especially _opiates._"

The two nurses looked at one another. Tamaki couldn't quite decipher their expressions.

"Looks like you'll have to do it the old fashioned way," the first twin continued, removing himself easily from a stunned Butch's headlock, "Because people will be checking up on us, and if something goes wrong, they might visit." His eyes were narrowed and his voice had taken on a gravity that did not seem to suit him.

Gertrude snapped her fingers. Butch and Jim stood at attention. She whispered something to them, and then turned sharply to Betty.

"We should go discuss this matter with Dr. Wilbur," she said curtly, and began to leave the room.

Tamaki jumped back and dashed down the hallway, turning into the bathroom and closing the door as he heard their footsteps go by.

Turning around and breathing a sigh of relief, Tamaki nearly had a heart attack when he saw Haruhi sitting on the sink. She did not look surprised to see him, and quickly returned to what she had been doing: examining the mustard kept in the cupboard below the sink. She turned it upside down and tried to squirt some out, but none came.

"That's strange," Tamaki said softly, "I could've sworn it was full the last time I saw it…"

For the first time in a week, Haruhi responded to him and turned her head sharply to look at him. Her eyes widened as though she'd realized something.

"What?" he asked, both terrified of and entranced by her large eyes.

She looked down for a second, and then took the mustard bottle and raised it over her head, still upside down, and mimed squirting some.

Haruhi then jumped down, ran to the toilet, and threw up. Tamaki rushed over and held her hair back, patting her back. As she retched, he ran his hand through the silky locks. She had had it very short when he'd first arrived, but she had refused the latest offer of a haircut, and it was now just past her shoulders. _Pretty_, he thought.

As she recovered, he helped her wash her face and pat it dry with a towel. Pretty…he'd never really thought of Haruhi as pretty before, but maybe it had always been in the back of her mind.

_What an odd thing to think as you flush down someone else's vomit…_ he thought wryly.

Haruhi was looking at him again. He gave a start, as if caught in the middle of something embarrassing. She frowned, pointed to the mustard, to herself, and then opened her mouth wide, making as if she was eating a sandwich.

It hit him.

There had been enough mustard in that bottle to cover a person. A rather skinny, defenseless person, who had seen it coming.

* * *

"You have a letter, Sir," Kyouya's assistant announced as he entered the office.

Kyouya did not look up from his laptop as he replied, "Put it with the other business matters and I'll get to it in a moment."

"Pardon me, sir, but it's a personal letter addressed directly to you. I don't know why they sent it to the company. Anyway, we've screened it, and it's all clear."

Kyouya looked up and adjusted his glasses. "Very well," he said, "Let me see it, please."

The assistant relinquished the letter, and stood there watching as Kyouya deftly opened it with a finger.

"Sir, you have a dozen letter openers on your desk," the younger man replied carefully.

"I don't think that should concern you, Morinaga," the Ootori replied curly, sliding the paper out of its envelope, "And why are you still here? Go back to filing those reports."

Morinaga gave a small sigh as he left the office. Kyouya ignored him as he scanned through the letter.

_Dear Mr. Ootori,_

_Please take the hint that I gave you. I don't know how else to communicate what I know to you. My son is not safe. You must help him. She will protect you. You can trust her – she won't disobey me again._

_S._

The slip of paper fell out of his hands. This was a letter from the man he was searching for. Tamaki's father. Kyouya's heart sank in his chest as he thought of Tamaki –was he really in danger?

_And this "she," could it be?_

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in," he said, hiding his extreme irritation at being interrupted. The door opened to reveal a bashful and timid Morinaga. Kyouya felt his blood pressure rise. Morinaga edged in slowly, glancing over his shoulder. He had someone with him. Someone intimidating, Kyouya supposed.

He couldn't say he was surprised when he saw the woman following his assistant. Slimmer than he remembered, in surprisingly conservative clothing, Akane stood before him once again.

"You can leave," he said, not taking his eyes off her. Morinaga floundered for a second, wondering to whom Kyouya was speaking. When Akane didn't even blink, he decided to run for his life.

"You got the letter," she said, smiling. Her lips were painted a dark red, and she wore all black.

"You're in mourning," he replied. The smile vanished.

There was a pregnant pause, and Akane's stricken face by the body of her lover flashed before Kyouya's eyes. He blinked. When he opened his eyes, she was all smiles again.

"I'm here to protect you," she continued, "And make sure you don't take any unnecessary detours."

He sighed.

"Like going to Colombia? Anyway, I already have a full team of bodyguards that are much more capable—"

She pressed her hand to his mouth to silence him. He inhaled and vividly recalled her body underneath him, smelling of the same jasmine lotion.

"Listen. I obey the one who pays me the most. Right now I've changed hands. I'm yours, free of charge. You should trust him." Her eyes flashed dangerously as she spoke

She was talking about Suoh. Had she met him? Kyouya had so many questions he longed to ask – where was he now? What should he do?

Those could be asked later. Shoving the questions under a mask of professionalism, he turned his laptop so the screen faced her.

"Very well then, I'll humor you. If you accompany me on this little trip."

* * *

"Ah, so cute!" one of the twins cried in Japanese when he saw Haruhi. She frowned at him.

Tamaki looked up from his game of solitaire. The pair had been changed into the grey patient uniforms. Even in rags, they gave off the same impression of wealth and confidence that Tamaki had noticed in the entryway.

The other twin noticed him and came over, followed closely by his double.

"Ah, you're the peeping Tom!" he said bluntly in Japanese. Tamaki shook his head.

"Pardon me?' he replied. The brother elbowed the first.

"Leave him alone," he said quietly. He then took Tamaki's hand in his own, "Hello, I'm Hikaru!"

His twin looked miffed. "Kaoru, what are you saying? _I'm_ Hikaru!"

"No, I'm Hikaru. Stop it!"

"No, I'm Hikaru. You're _Kaoru_!"

"What are you doing?" Tamaki asked. It was the first time things had seemed so exciting. To converse with people again…

"Ah, I know, my dear brother," the first one to claim that he was Hikaru announced with a smile, "Let's let our new friend figure it out."

Tamaki was taken aback. The one who was theoretically Kaoru nodded vigorously.

"Yes, it's the 'Guess which one of us is Hikaru' game!"

The blond looked back and forth between the two, who were grinning like Cheshire cats. He opened his mouth to speak.

"But wait! You have only one guess!" they protested. He closed it again.

Haruhi had wandered over, attracted by the sound of Japanese. She watched them as they taunted Tamaki again.

"Well, which one is Hikaru? Is it me?"

"Or me?"

Tamaki crossed his arms and thought carefully. One of them was lying – but how was he supposed to tell?

"You!" a small, very hoarse voice said. The three men turned and Haruhi was pointing to the twin who had announced his status as Hikaru second. Tamaki would have guessed wrong.

Haruhi had said something.

Ignoring the cheers and claims that Haruhi had been cheating, Tamaki hugged her. The twins looked at each other and smirked.

"How lovey dovey, eh, Kaoru?" Hikaru whispered. Tamaki felt his ears go red and he released her. She looked up at him with a soft blush on her cheeks.

She then scurried off to her room.

"Maybe this really is a nuthouse, Hikaru. What have we gotten ourselves into?"

Tamaki was about to answer when Butch and Jim came into the room. Kaoru did a little jump in mock-fright.

"You got a problem?" Butch said fiercely. Kaoru shook his head and put his hands up in a defensive position.

"No, I just don't like rapists." His tone made Tamaki think again of a finicky child.

"Kaoru!" Hikaru cried as Butch growled.

"Who gives a shit what you think?" he asked.

"Nothing, it's just that, if you want Tamaki to sleep with you, you should seduce him properly," Hikaru replied, "Like this."

He turned to his brother and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Kaoru turned his head away a little and blushed.

"Why are you blushing, Kaoru?" Hikaru asked softly.

"I—you're embarrassing me," his brother responded in a meek voice.

"You don't like it?" Hikaru pressed, moving his head close to Kaoru's ear, "When I do this?"

Kaoru's blush deepened. "Ah, no, it's not that—"

"That's enough, ya damn perverts!" Butch shouted.

"Yea, pervs!" Jim echoed.

"Oh yes, because nonconsensual ass-rape is totally sexually normal!" Hikaru shot back, "We saw you!"

Tamaki shivered. He hadn't really been alone…

Butch stormed out of the room, probably to go find Martha. Jim looked at the twins, and then at Tamaki, before hurrying out the door after Butch.

Tamaki began to laugh. It was a big laugh. He hadn't laughed like that since his college days. His face felt hot – and wet – he realized he was crying at the same time. Somehow, something had been lifted from him.

The twins looked at each other.

"Are you ok?" One of them asked. He'd forgotten if it was Hikaru or Kaoru.

"Yea, I'm fine," Tamaki replied, calming down a bit.

He took a long breath and wiped his face. The WGD was snoring lightly in a corner. Martha's screams of pain and delight were echoing through the halls. Haruhi peeked her head into the game room and glanced at the three of them.

"Yes," he continued, "It really saved me, your arrival."

They looked at each other again – did they always do that before speaking?

"It's what we're here for," one of them replied. Tamaki ignored the serious tone of the comment and laughed again.

* * *

DM: Well that's another chapter. Things are gonna get a little crazy next chapter, so I'm gonna give you a choice: twincest or no? Please let me know in a review. Thanks so much for reading!


	8. Ecstasy

DM: So, the votes are in and with five for, six against, and a bunch of people who didn't vote (My two beta's were split on the decision), it looks like there won't be any explicit twincest smut. However, people seem to like their play acting, so I will be sure to keep it up. Who knows, if you guys raise a stink I might publish a separate oneshot…

Anyway, this time I decided to write notes to my reviewers. I love you guys!

**LalaMoped** Thank you! Yes they will but they show up later.

**Pachinko** Thanks so much! I was inspired by _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_. 

**Matthew** You always leave such nice little reviews.

**Krimzon Lilly** Thanks a lot! Your reviews always make me smile

**Princess Falling Star** Interesting idea…Thank you!

**bazoo** Good point… I was worried about that. Thanks for your review!

**Kaiya-of-the-Shadows** Hunny will show up eventually… hee hee

**Answerno.42** Apologies! I'll try and make this chapter extra long for you!

**HarunoRin** I know, I couldn't leave Tamaki high and dry, now could I? Thanks so much!

**marauderwormtail89** I'm glad you liked it! Your reviews make me so happy!

**Arianna Lee **Well here you are!

**^_^** Thank you!

**bluedragon** I'm glad you like it! It was inspired by that book, actually…

**Rae-me** Lol I shall put it aside for you. No worries. Thanks for the review!

**staggered incite** I agree!

**Koneko-Hiruka** Yay! Thank you!

**xXLieselotteXx** I apologize for the lateness! School is hard…

**darkryubaby **Yes, Ma'am!

**The Emo Poet** Thank you! Hunny and Mori are on their way…never fear!

Disclaimer: Same as usual

**The Ward**

**VIII**

**Ecstasy**

"Bienvenue en France, Messieurs et Mesdames!" the voice overhead chirped happily. Kyouya woke from his light slumber and looked around.

Next to him in the first class cabin sat Akane, alert and also looking around. The plane jostled a little as it touched down.

"Remind me again why we couldn't have taken your private jet?" she asked, looking as though she hadn't slept the entire ride. Kyouya smirked.

"You know very well that I'm being monitored very carefully since Tamaki's trial. Don't you think I can hire someone to do this detective work for me?"

There was no response. Everyone around them began retrieving their bags and stretching their legs. Akane sighed as she stood up.

"I take it that's why you bought the tickets in my name?" He gave a curt nod in reply.

The pair exited the plane and headed towards the baggage claim, where a driver was waiting for them.

As they waited for the bags (Kyouya had never realized how annoying travel must be for commoners) Akane pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

Kyouya grabbed it and stepped on it.

Akane lit another. Kyouya stamped it out immediately.

The dark haired woman stared at her companion, who returned the look.

_This is going to be terrible._

* * *

"Your hair is so pretty, Haruhi," Hikaru said, wrapping a small lock around his finger.

Tamaki forced himself to stay focused on his game of solitaire. It wasn't really a game – it was a cover as he mulled over the three of clubs. What did it mean?

_Two robot queens are unnecessary…_ Surely that referred to the nurses. Tamaki frowned and tried to figure things out.

"Hi-hikaru," Haruhi's little voice said. Her speech was improving every day now.

"My name? She said my name!" Hikaru sounded ecstatic. Tamaki closed his eyes.

"Hikaru, Hikaru," Haruhi said again. Her voice was still monotone – she had yet to regain all aspects of talking – but to Tamaki it sounded like a happy song. Anger welled up inside him.

He looked up in time to see Hikaru give her a hug. The room suddenly became very hot. It was strange; after all the trouble he'd been through, this was the first time he was truly angry. He blinked twice. Hikaru hadn't let go.

Shoving the card into his pocket, Tamaki got up and pulled the two apart. Kaoru smiled mischievously and held Hikaru back as Tamaki practically dragged Haruhi out of the room.

"Where?" she asked calmly, not the least bit afraid of him.

"You'll see." Tamaki did not really know what he was about to do.

Why did his blood boil so intensely every time she was with the twins? What was the feeling that ruled over his dreams at night – dreams in which she belonged to him and only him?

They reached his room and he held her closely. She stared into his eyes unflinchingly. _She is beautiful_, he thought, and he covered her mouth with his.

* * *

"It is so nice to meet Tamaki's friends," the frail woman said happily. She was lying in bed, her blonde hair fanning out over the pillows. This was she. This was Tamaki's mother.

"How are you feeling?" Kyouya asked, taking her small, delicate hand in his. She smiled in reply. Even on his personal mission Kyouya could not forget that he was a doctor. Behind him, Akane bowed.

"If you don't mind, we'd love it if you could tell us where Mr. Suoh is," she said sweetly. Kyouya stared at her, trying to communicate with his eyes, _It's too soon to ask that_.

"How I wish I knew," the woman sighed, not in the least perturbed by the question. Her gaze fell on a photograph on her dresser and grew sad.

Kyouya and Akane sat silently and waited for her to speak again. It was a long wait. Akane became aware of someone knocking on the door and went to answer it as Kyouya studied the photo. It was Tamaki and his father, Tamaki still fat and babyish, his blonde hair lying thickly over his head. Yuzuru looked much younger than Kyouya had ever seen him, his eyes smiling as he held his son still.

"J'ai apporté du thé," the maid said, sidestepping Akane and setting her tray down on a low table. She then stood up and wrung her hands, watching Tamaki's mother with a strangely pained expression.

"That will be all, Jeanne-Marie," the mistress said, not removing her eyes from the picture. The maid gave an unseen curtsy and left. Akane followed her motions with her eyes.

"I hope he is playing the piano right now," the mother said softly.

* * *

"Haruhi…" Tamaki groaned, nuzzling her neck. She wrapped her small arms around his head and pressed him to her. He gave a little nibble just above her collarbone and she yelped.

Her fingers buried themselves in his hair and he became lost in her scent. Their lips met again, their tongues clashed; he pressed her down, and they fell upon the mattress.

He caressed her through her shirt, eliciting a small moan of pleasure. Slowly, his hand worked its way underneath the fabric, drawing closer to her small breasts. He ran his thumb across her right nipple and she shivered in ecstasy.

As he made haste to remove her clothes, her expression suddenly changed.

"No!" she said quickly, moving to get up. Confused, Tamaki held her down.

"No!" she repeated, struggling against him. She was surprisingly strong and he found himself letting her go. She got up quickly and ran to the door. As she reached it, she turned back to look at him.

"I cannot take advantage of you," she said quickly, "You are mentally disturbed."

"Haruhi, wait!" Tamaki cried out, suddenly finding his voice. She had already left and ran back to the common room. He fell back on to the bed, whispering, "But I love you…"

* * *

Kyouya and the French woman were speaking in hushed voices now. Occasionally Akane caught isolated words.

"…play…"

"…Japan…"

"…First Mansion?"

"Yes."

"…did not know…"

What intrigued her more was the sound she heard coming from a room nearby: a soft rattling noise accompanied by humming.

Excusing herself without being noticed, Akane stepped out into the hallway. The humming grew louder and she could smell incense burning. She quickly followed the scent to the end of the narrow corridor.

The door she reached was marked "La Chapelle." The humming and rattling was most certainly coming from this room. Akane opened the door a small crack and peered inside.

A woman in a maid uniform, her bushy brown hair in disarray, knelt before the altar, rattling a rosary and reciting prayers so quickly that her words came out in a continuous hum. Akane shivered. There was something strangely disturbing about the scene…she felt like a voyeur watching this woman pray.

The maid began to throw herself to the floor in submission before the virgin Mary and infant Christ, hitting the floor so hard it sounded painful. A lucky angle enabled Akane to ascertain that this was the same maid who had brought tea to the room earlier.

The tossing was becoming vicious and a chill crept up Akane's spine. She slowly backed away from the chapel. Once a good distance away, she ran back to the room.

Kyouya glared at her as she shut the door behind her rather loudly. He then turned his attention back to the sick woman. Akane felt a sense of relief just by being in his presence. The maid had terrified her to the point where her legs were still shaking.

"I am so happy for him, then," Tamaki's mother said cheerfully, her voice weaker than ever, "Please send him my love." Kyouya gripped her hands tightly in his.

"Of course, Madame." He then stood from the bed and took his leave. Akane muttered a few polite phrases as well, and before she knew it they were back in the driveway.

"What the fuck was that?" Kyouya said softly as he climbed into their car after her. She stared back at him in silence. He gave the chauffeur some instructions and then returned the look.

"Well? Why did you leave like that? And to come running in – you looked like you'd seen a ghost! And you didn't have any tea…" he seemed very irritated.

"Don't blame me just because she had no information for you," Akane replied, her anger rising to match his.

"Shut up!" the normally collected Kyouya found himself shouting. Why did this woman have such an effect on him? His fists clenched at his sides.

"Anyway," she said calmly, smirking and examining her nails, "I found an interesting character inside that house." He looked nonplussed.

"And I care because?" His nonchalant and sarcastic cover had returned and he opened up his laptop.

"She was really strange," Akane protested, "She was praying furiously in the chapel, in a very abnormal way, like she was possessed–"

"It's called 'religious ecstasy' and it's fairly common in Christian nations like France," Kyouya said, not bothering to even look up.

"You don't think that's weird? She looked positively frightening!" Akane persisted, going so far as to lay a hand on his arm.

He shrugged her off and replied, "What I thought was _weird_, was that Tamaki's mother did not know he had been moved to the main house. When we were in school, Yuzuru kept her updated on everything, but it seems they haven't been in real contact for quite some time…"

Akane was no longer listening. She leaned back in the seat and sulked.

* * *

"So many fucking Japs in here!" Butch said as he stomped into the common area.

"Yea," echoed Jim, eyeing Tamaki and Haruhi, "So many _fucking_ Japs."

Tamaki continued to play solitaire, keeping up his charade of not understanding English. Haruhi stared at the floor.

The twins look around in a triangle, from Tamaki, to the orderlies, to Haruhi, and back to Tamaki again, unable to figure out what's going on.

"Oi, Tamaki, what happened with you and Haru—"

"No more of that fucking 'doshonobobobo' crap language in here!" Butch roared, cutting off Hikaru's question.

"Yea, no more of that!" Jim repeated. He grabbed Kaoru and held his arms behind his back.

"What are you doing?" the younger twin asked, looking extremely irritated. Butch grabbed Hikaru in a similar fashion. Each was pretty small and easy to hold still.

"It's time for your treatment," Nurse Gertrude's voice rang over the loudspeaker, sending a chill down Tamaki's spine.

The twins looked at each other in horror that contained no trace of mocking. Then Kaoru's eyes set firmly.

"No, Hikaru, we must do this if we are going to help Haruhi!" His brother nodded in reply.

The orderlies dragged them away and Nurse Betty entered the room. She gave a quick glance at the WGD and then sat down across from Haruhi.

"Now Haruhi, I'm very proud of you, telling the nasty man 'No' like that. You did well. Any further and I would have had to intervene." Her voice was singsong and punctuated by Hikaru and Kaoru's screams from down the hall.

Haruhi did not answer. Tamaki slipped the three of clubs into his pocket and began to play solitaire in earnest. He would not let this woman break him.

"Men really are so filthy, even the crazy ones," the nurse continued, glancing slyly at Tamaki, "All they want to do is have sex, all the time. We girls can only trust each other…"

She placed her hand on Haruhi's knee and Tamaki crumpled the seven of diamonds by accident. Haruhi at last looked up at Betty and gave her a frightened look.

"Don't worry, women know best when it comes to making other women feel good," she said softly, leaning towards the younger girl. Haruhi leaned back, in response, so much so that her chair toppled over.

Tamaki was on the ground in a flash, holding her up, keeping her from injuring herself. Haruhi smiled at him gratefully. Betty laughed.

"How nice, two crazies in love with each other!" She kicked at them with a stiletto heel. Tamaki pushed Haruhi out of the way and was scratched on the arm. Just as the nurse raised her leg for another kick, the twins and orderlies returned to the room.

Betty turned on her heel and walked to the door, turning around once to wink at Haruhi before leaving. Butch and Jim stared after her, confused, before dropping the twins unceremoniously on the dirty linoleum floor. The pair left the room, chuckling.

Tamaki righted Haruhi's chair before kneeling down to see if they were ok. They had been drugged, of course, but Kaoru seemed to be clutching something in his right hand. The blond man attempted to pry the hand open, but Kaoru suddenly came to.

"No, that's for the mission," he said, scooting away. Hikaru sat up groggily and nodded his assent.

"What are you talking about?" Tamaki asked, frustrated and angry. Kaoru shook his head.

"Glad to see you protected her while we were gone," Hikaru said, "I always worry when she's out of my sight." Tamaki resisted the urge to hit him.

"It's been like that since college, hasn't it?" Kaoru said softly. Tamaki suddenly became alert.

"College?" he asked quickly. Kaoru nodded.

"We were in college together, the three of us. Which is why we have to help her. She's been here for too long."

"Too long," Kaoru echoed.

* * *

DM: The plot thickens! I hope you all enjoyed it. If you did (and especially if you didn't) please leave a review! You're awesome! Next chapter some questions will be answered (hopefully). Yay!


	9. Answers

DM: Hello! It's been a while, huh? School is hard, and I was just in Paris. Yea writing fanfiction in Paris seemed like a depressing idea so I didn't. Instead I ate lots of yummy pastries! Sorry. I will behave from now on, I promise!

A big thank you to all who reviewed! We've broken 100 reviews! I love you guys.

Disclaimer: Story is mine, characters aren't.

**The Ward**

**IX**

**Answers**

Kyouya couldn't concentrate. Normal people experience this phenomenon all the time, but it was a first for the young executive.

Why couldn't he concentrate?

Akane sat filing her nails in the corner of his office. She had an entire manicuring kit laid open on the small table next to her. She carefully slid the file back into its compartment. Her hand hovered for a bit, fingers dancing, as she selected her next instrument.

Kyouya slammed down his pen.

"You know, I can have a car fetched so that you can have that done by a professional," he said tersely, his eyebrow twitching a little.

The woman smiled and selected a nail buffer. She looked up at her companion, smile still fixed on her face.

"I am not to leave your side," she said simply. She was enjoying his frustration. Kyouya hid a growl. His productivity was eighty percent lower than usual.

"Tell me again who ordered you to accompany me?" he asked, rubbing his forehead to stave off a forming headache.

She pondered this for a bit, or perhaps she was focusing her energy on buffing her left thumb. He wasn't sure. Her thoughts were a mystery to him and it was quite infuriating.

"My boss," she said curtly, referring to the Yakuza head. Kyouya frowned.

"And who told your boss to get involved in this?"

"Suoh, of course."

Kyouya had been expecting a cryptic and uninformative answer, and had already returned to his work. The words reached him a half a second late.

"What did you s—"

There was a knock on the door. Akane smiled and answered it, as though Kyouya had never started speaking.

"Sir," the meek secretary started, "You have a guest."

Kyouya quickly became annoyed.

"What? I told you I was focusing on work today!"

The secretary exchanged glances with Akane.

"I think you should admit the guest," Akane said. Her smile infuriated him.

"Whatever, let him in. I don't care." He spun around in his chair to face the bookshelf behind his desk.

"Very good sir, Mr. Suoh will be pleased."

* * *

The twins were receiving treatment again. Tamaki was able to be alone with Haruhi again. Well, the other two patients were there, but they were each absorbed in their own activities. Martha was playing Scrabble with herself, and the WGD was staring blankly into space. It was a busy day.

She was avoiding him, but occasionally she'd glance his way. Whenever she encountered his unwavering stare, she blushed and turned away quickly. It had been like this for thirty minutes. Tamaki sighed, and scooted his chair from the other side of the table so that it was next to hers.

"Let's practice talking, Haruhi," he suggested softly. Her ears turned red. He edged closer to her, but she leaned away. Her chair was going to fall over again, so he grabbed it and held it steady, his arms now around her small, quivering frame.

They paused like that for what seemed like ages. Tamaki studied her face. She was very pretty, he had realized, and the thought was making it difficult to treat her with the same patronizing affection as before.

Haruhi steeled herself. She swallowed and Tamaki watched very carefully the contraction of her throat.

"Tamaki, I have a task I must accomplish. Please relinquish the three of clubs."

She sounded mildly annoyed and would not look at him. This somehow made her irresistible to Tamaki. He leaned closer. Her breath seemed to catch in her throat.

"I will give it to you if you tell me why you want it," he whispered.

Haruhi at last turned and looked at him. She struggled to find the words. Their faces were mere centimeters apart. Tamaki leaned in just a bit more.

"Haruhi, if I proved to you that I was sane, would you be with me?" he asked. He failed to realize the significance of his words and only stared at her earnestly.

A second time she was caught off-guard, blushing to the roots of her hair.

"That's enough." The two nurses and orderlies had appeared in the doorway.

Tamaki let himself be pulled away from Haruhi, but he never broke his gaze with her.

She smiled at him.

* * *

Kyouya felt as though ice had been poured down his back, but he hid it. His expression was blank when he turned around to face his guest.

"Kyouya!!!" Yuzuru Suoh leapt across the desk with surprising agility and enveloped the younger man in a hug. Kyouya felt a sense of revulsion he could only associate with the Suoh family. It was rather nostalgic.

When at last the executive (who had lost some weight, Kyouya noted) released him, Akane directed him to a chair. The older man spoke in a stream of pleasantries to Akane, who smiled prettily the whole time.

"Back in the country at last, I see," Kyouya said, smirking. Suoh at last sat down and returned the smirk. He was two different people when he wanted to be, Kyouya knew very well.

"I had business to attend to. How are you? Are you and Miss Wakamura getting along well?" He did not seem to want to get straight to the point, but Kyouya knew how to handle the situation.

"We're getting along great, although we're no closer to discovering the truth behind your mother's murder," he said, feigning indifference. Suoh was not fooled.

"Don't worry about finding the culprit. I came to discuss Tamaki's situation. He needs to be moved." His voice was grave.

Kyouya was slightly surprised. "What do you mean? Won't finding the culprit clear his name and release him?"

Suoh exchanged a mysterious glance with Akane. Kyouya felt himself grow irritated.

"Listen, he is in a terrible place right now. There are people there to help him, according to my sources, but they are not associated with me. I worry for my son's health and safety. You must have him transferred to an Ootori facility as soon as possible." It was a command, not a request. Kyouya was taken aback. Suoh had never spoken to him in this manner before.

"I've been meaning to ask about that," Kyouya replied, covering his surprise, "Why was he not given to us in the first place?"

Again, Akane and Suoh looked at each other. Her eyes slid to the floor. Irritation was becoming rage. Kyouya did not like to be left out of anything. Here he had thought he had all the facts, but Suoh had kept him out of it! What had all his work been for?

"An error in the legal system, which I've since corrected. All that's left is for you to sign the order for transfer. I've sent some people of mine to where he is, but I want him out of there before they arrive to carry out my orders. Please bring him home!" Suoh made puppy dog eyes. Kyouya was not fooled or amused.

"I am not signing the order until you tell me why the yakuza were involved."

Suoh froze. He looked tremendously angry. Kyouya felt an inkling of fear. How odd, he'd always thought of the old man as a goofball.

* * *

When the twins returned from their treatment, Tamaki immediately took Kaoru aside. Hikaru began openly flirting with Haruhi , but Tamaki couldn't let it bother him. He had something important to take care of.

"Kaoru, why are you and Hikaru here?" he asked. Kaoru smiled sleepily. Tamaki frowned and gave the younger man a shake.

"Hn? We're crazy, that's why," he replied simply. He put his arm around Tamaki and began drawing circles on his chest.

"Kaoru, even if you are crazy, I know who you both are. I went to a gallery opening of yours in Japan. You could be in any of the finest hospitals in the world – why this sham of a ward?"

Tamaki's words were sharp, and Kaoru's hand froze.

"Do you know how long Haruhi's been here?" he asked, putting both arms around Tamaki's neck and leaning in close.

Tamaki shook his head. Kaoru leaned in even closer, smiling.

"Two years."

Tamaki froze. He had been there for barely a few months. Kaoru gave him a twisted half-smile.

"Anyway, why are _you _here? I know who _you_ are too," he said softly.

* * *

Suoh was silent. Kyouya also kept his mouth sealed. Akane looked back and forth between them, unsure of whose side she should be on.

"I see no reason to cooperate with you until I have all the facts," Kyouya said finally, "Why was he sent out of Japan in the first place? Why did the Yakuza lead me astray, on _your_ orders?"

The older man remained quiet, pondering his options. Kyouya spoke again:

"And why would someone with as much power and money as you have bother to get tangled up with gangsters?"

Suoh sighed. He suddenly looked very old and tired.

"I did it for the sake of a debt that I owe, to a woman named Kotoko Fujioka."

* * *

DM: Short I know (please don't be mad!) but I need to get back into writing slowly. Hopefully I will update this again before I go back to school. Please review! Your reviews are motivation for me to write! I love you guys! Next chapter, a good deal of the truth surrounding the whole thing will be revealed!! So stay tuned!


	10. Unraveling

DM: I'm back! Thanks everyone for your lovely reviews! You guys rock!

Disclaimer: story is mine, characters aren't.

**The Ward**

**X**

**Unraveling**

On a highway in southeastern Wyoming, a small, red Toyota was the only car for miles as it wound its way through the hills. Rest stops were a distant memory as they passed into territory never settled.

"Wake up…" the tall man driving said softly.

His partner, a very petite blond man, groaned and snuggled his stuffed bunny in the back seat of the car. The driver sighed.

"Mitsukuni, we are almost there." He took the next exit off the highway. There was nothing but wasteland for miles around.

Mitsukuni sat up and tossed the bunny aside. He ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"I'm getting too old for this, Takashi," he whined, the words sounding strange coming from his baby face.

"You're only twenty-four," Takashi responded, his dark eyes focused on the shabby building up ahead.

The smaller man gave a sigh and clambered into the passenger's seat. His eyes narrowed as he too turned his attention to the building.

"Is that _it_?" Mitsukuni asked, frowning cutely. Takashi nodded slowly. There was nothing else for miles around.

This was their destination.

* * *

Tamaki couldn't sleep. Martha's screams filled the night with unprecedented force. He sat up in bed and sighed. He was not allowed to leave his room, since he was likely to approach Haruhi with "immoral intents."

It wasn't such a big deal that he couldn't fall asleep. Delirium would deliver him, followed by exhaustion, and then he would sleep.

He wondered vaguely how many days it had been since he'd seen Haruhi. Long enough to thoroughly contemplate the situation, even if it didn't do him any good.

She wasn't crazy…or was she? Was he even sane anymore? Had he ever been sane? Martha's screams shattered his thoughts. It was impossible to think clearly.

He turned over and curled into the fetal position, placing the pillow over his ear to block out the sound.

She was here to solve some kind of mystery…but what? What was there to show that this wasn't all the crazy illusions of Frank and Francis? Did the three of clubs even exist?

He was so thirsty…where was the water they'd left him? Stumbling through the dark room, Tamaki at last felt his hands close around the cup.

They left a child's sippy cup full of water under the door every night. Why a sippy cup? Would it prevent him from drowning himself?

He drained the glass.

The only conclusion he could draw was that he could not assume that anyone was sane. Not himself, not the orderlies, not any of the patients.

"Ugh," he groaned, wiping his mouth.

"Wait, if I'm not sane, then how can I do anything?" he asked aloud, terror gripping his chest.

Martha's shriek was the only reply he received.

* * *

"Kyouya, we're going to be late," Akane called from the hallway. Kyouya frowned in the mirror and continued adjusting his cufflinks.

"Miss Wakamura, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call me so familiarly. Also, you can send the butler to call me. Go wait in the car if you're so impatient. I'm never late for anything." He finished with his cufflinks, looked himself over, and walked out toward the door.

He opened it, his chest strangely tight, and sighed when he found the hallway unoccupied. He shut the door firmly behind him, only to reveal Akane, leaning against the wall.

One hand rested on her hip, the other holding a small, hot pink clutch. Kyouya's eyes slid involuntarily over her body. A black dress with a heart-shaped neckline hugged her perfect body. Her hair was up in a low chignon to the side.

"I thought _women_ were supposed to take a long time to get ready," she said, interrupting his thoughts and smirking with her full, red mouth.

Kyouya caught himself and turned away sharply. She followed as they walked down the stairs.

"I don't half-ass things. My appearance must be perfect. Anyway, don't get cocky just because you're my escort. It's only because Suoh asked me specifically."

Akane said nothing, only scampered ahead, her behind moving in a hypnotic fashion. Kyouya blinked twice to clear the strange thoughts forming in his mind.

Together they entered the limo and sat facing each other. Akane immediately began flipping the radio channels, messing with the air conditioning and adjusting the lights. Kyouya frowned at her.

"You're like a child! You can't sit still!" he exclaimed, his voice uncharacteristically loud. He was strangely frustrated, a feeling that was growing all too familiar.

"I don't understand why you're so high strung. Is it because your friend probably won't be saved after all?" She smirked again, leaving the radio playing the music of some inane boy band.

Kyouya bit back a reply, choosing instead to stare out the window. However, he couldn't keep himself from touching a small button to his right.

Akane made a face as opera filled the limo. Kyouya sneered as she frowned and turned away.

"Whatever," she said, still not looking at him, "Don't let it ruin this for you. This is supposed to be the hottest party of the year."

"I know," he said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, "I've attended it every year since middle school."

* * *

Tamaki was running down the hallway as fast as he could, his heart pounding furiously. He had to get to Haruhi's room. He didn't know why; he just knew that if he didn't, something horrible would happen.

The hallway twisted on in front of him – was it always this curvy? His chest felt like it was going to burst.

"Haruhi," he gasped. Somewhere, someone was pounding on a door. The floor curved ahead in a spiral, and still Tamaki ran. He felt the blood rush to his head as he ran upside down toward her room.

The pounding increased, getting louder and louder, filling his head.

"Hey, Jap, wake up!" Butch's voice broke through.

Tamaki choked as he opened his eyes. He was half off the bed, his upper body hanging upside down almost to the floor. A click told him that the orderlies were unlocking the door to enter.

He had long lost the will to eat, and so lacked the strength to right himself. He settled for slithering the rest of the way to the floor.

The orderlies burst in, looking around and scowling. Tamaki crouched and peered over the bed. He never liked to look defenseless or attractive when Butch was present.

"What the fuck are you doing, faggot?" the large orderly growled. Tamaki frowned.

_Who are _you_ calling a faggot?_ He thought angrily.

"Whatever, get up," Jim said.

Tamaki tried, but standing seemed to be out of the question. The two orderlies glanced at each other and frowned.

"Are you fucking serious?"

They picked him up and carried him out of the room. Tamaki blinked around stupidly. He had been dreaming of something, but what?

* * *

"It's a pleasure to see you, Mr. Ootori," some woman of minor significance said as she shook his hand.

Kyouya smiled falsely, "You look lovely as always."

She blushed with feigned modesty. Kyouya excused himself and slipped away to the bar.

"Martini, extra dry," he said curtly.

"Let me guess – shaken, not stirred?" a sly voice joked from behind him. Kyouya felt that strange tightness in his chest return. What a horrendously nerve-wracking feeling.

"Very funny, Miss Wakamura," he said, smirking, as he took the martini. In the dim lighting Akane's eyes glittered brightly. Some men trailed behind her. Kyouya's eyes narrowed.

"Let's get outta here," she whispered, flashing a white grin. Kyouya didn't know why, but the room was suddenly very hot.

"We finally caught you, Akane!" one of the followers said happily. The flock of men now surrounded her, baring their teeth in wolfish grins.

"Your date is wonderful, Mr. Ootori," another one said. The look in his eyes gave an impression of slime.

Kyouya's eyebrow twitched. Even on his best days, he had trouble with trust fund babies running wild at parties. Ever since that meeting with Suoh he'd been on edge.

Suoh, who had confessed almost everything. Almost.

Apparently realizing that Kyouya was immovable, Akane shrugged and walked away, taking her posse with her.

One of the men kept his gaze on Kyouya. It lingered suspiciously – only for a moment, but enough to set the young executive on edge. Then the mysterious guest turned and followed the others.

Drinking his martini all at once, the youngest Ootori decided to avoid the next crowd of admirers by slipping off to the bathroom. At last, some solitude to muse over the past week.

Just as he entered the bathroom, his cell phone rang. Ever diligent, he answered it, leaning against the door of the stall.

"Yes? This is Ootori," he said curtly.

"Sir, secretary Yamamoto speaking," came the voice on the other end. Kyouya smiled. Yamamoto was one of his more promising subordinates.

"What is it? You should know not to call me while I am attending social functions," he said, with his usual coldness.

"Sir, this is about the order to relocate the Japanese citizens in the mental hospital in the US–"

"—And? What of it?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"It appears that the other party is unwilling to relinquish them. And as of two hours ago, we have been unable to make contact with the psychiatric center in question—"

Kyouya felt his heart plummet into his stomach. The door against his back was like ice. Yamamoto was still speaking, but Kyouya heard nothing.

"I want Suoh to be waiting in my office when I get home," he said stonily. He hung up before the secretary could reply.

_What am I going to do?_ He buried his hands in his hair. His pulse tripled in speed. He could hear his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

"Not in here! Someone will catch us!" Akane's voice disrupted his thoughts. Without thinking, Kyouya turned and hid in the bathroom stall, locking it quickly.

"Oh come on," the man with her replied churlishly. Kyouya's panic was replaced by anger and revulsion. In spite of himself, he watched them through the crack between the door and the wall.

"You're right. I know exactly why you brought me here," Akane said. Was it his imagination, or did she flash a smile at the stall when she said that?

"Oh, do you?" the man, who Kyouya now recognized as the gazer from before, reached into his pocket.

But Akane was too quick. With a flexibility Kyouya thought impossible (given her dress) she kicked him in the face. He was flung backwards onto the couch and she was on him in a flash.

She removed the gun and two knives he had been hiding. His face bled from a deep gash caused by her stiletto.

"Who sent you?" she whispered harshly.

There was no response. She kneed him in the groin and then dragged him out the door. Kyouya heard a vague exchange, and she returned alone.

Then he suddenly lost sight of her. She was still in the room but where?

"I took care of him, Mr. Ootori," she said haughtily. Kyouya looked up to see her peering over the top of the stall.

"Do I get a reward?"

* * *

"Mitsukuni, are you done with the wire clipper?" Takashi asked his small companion.

"Almost," he replied, "There is just the emergency phone line left."

The tall man sat back and watched his partner work. He carefully followed the trail of a wire from the building to the hotbox, trying to ascertain its function.

"Remember," Takashi said sternly, "If you cut the power by mistake they'll know we're here."

Mitsukuni gave him a wave over his shoulder.

"I know, I know. Gosh, this wiring job is shoddy, I don't even know what this _does_."

Takashi sighed.

DM: Well, how is it? It's longer this time, as a special thank you to those who reviewed even though my update was slow! I bet you all want to know what Tamaki's dad told Kyouya, don't you! Hahaha well don't worry, you'll find out next time! Please review! Also, please check out my profile for my new poll!


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